


The Darkness Inside Us

by realmsoffreedom



Series: The Darkness Inside Us [1]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band), All Time Low (Band), Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, Pierce the Veil, Sleeping With Sirens, Waterparks (Band)
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, Eating Disorders, F/F, M/M, Panic Attacks, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, basically everyone's gay and mentally ill it's great, gay as fuck, group home au, there's like no het in this lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2018-12-11 16:41:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 65
Words: 139,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11718345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/realmsoffreedom/pseuds/realmsoffreedom
Summary: After being taken out of his abusive home, Alex is sent to a group home for boys, where he soon learns the harshness of reality as backstories and tragic pasts are revealed. As he gets closer to everyone, he finds himself falling for one boy in particular, but Jack is completely against any type of relationship. Alex makes it his goal to get Jack to open his heart up to love again, but will he be able to help Jack overcome the horrors of his past while trying to run from his own?basically everyone is gay and mentally ill and it's a mixture of sadness and the most adorable moments between all these couples





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Long time no see, eh? It's been a while since I've posted anything on Ao3, but I have been writing a ton and posting on ff.net. If any of you wants to read my work on there, my username is the same. Anyway, back to this story...I've wanted to do this for a while. I love all these bands, and seeing Waterparks and All Time Low last Saturday kinda reignited my desire to write this story. 
> 
> It was originally going to be a mental hospital AU, but I decided to go with a group home because I felt like it would be less restricting. It's gonna be a story about finding yourself and learning to love after tragedy, which means it is gonna be pretty heavy at times. I'm gonna try to make it less heavy and more fluffy, but when backstories and mental illness come up, there are gonna be a lot of dark parks. I'll put trigger warnings at the beginning of each chapter, and you can always message me on tumblr (theghostofashton) for a quick, untriggering synopsis of the chapter.
> 
> This chapter isn't too bad, but trigger warning for mentions of suicide, anxiety, and panic attacks. I hope you enjoy.

Alex climbs out of the taxi and slams the door shut behind him, fixated on the large building in front of him. 

Home sweet home? Hardly.

He can’t believe this is happening. He can’t believe this is his life now.

Everything is different. He’s been forced out of his comfort zone way before he was ready and it’s terrifying. He knows it’s for the best; he’d much rather be here than where he was living before, but that doesn’t make it any less scary. That doesn’t make his heart go any slower and his hands stop shaking. His anxiety is through the roof and it only worsens when the driver sets his suitcase down next to him and motions toward the door.

“You good, kid?” His voice is gruff and Alex knows it’s not meant to be harsh but his increasing heart rate and cold, clammy hands say otherwise. He jerks and nods, grabbing the suitcase handle and swinging his duffel bag over his shoulder.

He hears the taxi drive off as he starts walking up the stairs and breathes a sigh of relief. Knowing that the driver was watching him walk up to the house and seeing how badly he was shaking was starting to freak him out even more.

He stops on the porch and takes a deep breath, closing his eyes.

_It’s gonna be okay._

_This is a good thing._

_He can’t hurt you anymore._

He repeats those three phrases in his head, and they soon become the mantra that calms him and propels him to ring the doorbell. The sound startles him and he jumps, bringing a hand to his chest. He can feel his heart racing like it’s about to beat out of his chest. 

The door swings open and he’s faced with a boy who looks a bit younger than him, but just as tall. His hair is fire engine red and he’s wearing a baggy Iron Maiden shirt and black skinny jeans with converse. 

Alex forces a smile. “I, um, I’m new? Alex Gaskarth?”

The boy nods and turns his head to call into the house. “Jordan, new kid’s here!”

He steps back and holds the door open wider. “I’m Michael, by the way. But you can call me Mikey, everyone does.”

Alex lifts his suitcase over the threshold and stares in wonder at the interior of the house.

It’s gorgeous.

It’s bright and airy with skylights and high ceilings and pale blue walls and it’s everything Alex ever imagined growing up in. It’s like what you imagine the interior of one of those white picket fence houses to be like, cluttered in a charming way, the walls covered in pictures of the kids, a fireplace going in the background…

It feels like home. 

A voice startles him, just as he’s descending into the abyss of what his life could’ve been. “Alexander, right?”

The woman standing in front of him is shorter, dressed in a Suicide Silence shirt and black skinny jeans with combat boots. She has heavy black eye shadow and lipstick on, and her septum is pierced. She’s smiling reassuringly at him, although it does nothing to slow his heart down.

He swallows. “Alex. Are you, um, the p-person in charge?”

His stutter is back with a vengeance and it only makes the desire to crawl into a hole stronger. He used to stutter really badly when he was younger. It took years of speech therapy to correct, and he did end up getting rid of it, but it comes back when he’s particularly anxious, like right now.

She nods. “I’m Jordan. My wife and I own the house and run things around here; some of the kids even call us mom and mama.” She chuckles. “But of course, you don’t have to do that! You can call us by our names, just none of that Mrs. crap, alright?”

“Mom, Ryan’s here! I’m leaving!” Alex doesn’t get a good look at the boy because he’s gone in an instant. He presses a kiss to Jordan’s cheek and dashes for the front door. Alex turns back around to look at Jordan in bewilderment. 

He also notices that a blond boy has slipped into the room with a finger to his lips. He tip toes over to Michael and slips his arms around his waist and rests his chin in the crook of his neck. Michael jumps but grins, turning his head to peck the boy’s cheek. Alex stares at them in shock. 

He’s imagined what the group home would be like ever since he found out he was being put into one, but never did anything like this cross his mind. He expected rules and regulations and coldness and it being no better than living at home. He didn’t foresee light and happiness and new relationships and the thought of…a _family_.

It’s a foreign but consuming thought.

He’s hooked.

…

“My wife is out right now, so you’ll meet her at dinner, but why don’t I introduce you to everyone else? Let’s just take your stuff to your room, and then you can meet everybody.”

Alex follows her nervously, up a flight of stairs, into a room at the end of the hallway. Jordan knocks on the door a couple times and only turns the handle when a voice gives them permission. 

He doesn’t know how to feel. One part of him is relieved that it seems like his privacy will be respected and he won’t have people barging into his room, but the other part is worried about the fact that it won’t just be his room. He anticipated having a roommate, and it’s the cause of most of his anxiety.

Jordan turns to him with a sheepish smile. “I don’t know if they told you you’d have a roommate, so I’m sorry if this is a surprise, but this is Ashton.” As she’s talking, the boy slides off his bed and comes over to the doorway to stand in front of them. He has a mess of light brown curls atop his head, hazel eyes, and a dimpled smile. 

Ashton holds a hand out, grinning at him. “Hi! I’m Ashton, you’re Alexander, right?”

“Alex,” he corrects softly, shaking Ashton’s hand. “It’s n-nice to meet you…”

“You too!” He glances at Jordan and reaches to take Alex’s duffel from her hands. “I got it from here mom, you can go.”

Jordan smiles and tousles a hand through his hair. “Thanks babe. Dinner’s in a few hours, and leave the headphones out so you can actually hear us call for you alright? Mama said she’d pick up that new pair of sticks for you while she’s out.”

Ashton’s grin widens – if that’s even possible, Alex isn’t sure how a person could possibly smile this much – and he leans in to kiss Jordan’s cheek. The cheek kissing is starting to become a recurring theme. It confuses him. Alex isn’t sure where the affection is coming from. He didn’t expect anything like it. 

All he knows about group homes are what he’s heard in horror stories. This is making them seem like just that, stories. The real thing is so much different. There’s affection and love and genuine kindness that he definitely wasn’t expecting. He was prepared to hate it, for his life not to get better; to continue wishing he was dead, but maybe this will be different. He hopes so.

“I’ll be downstairs if you guys need anything,” Jordan says. She leaves with a parting wave, and Alex turns back to Ashton, swallowing against the large lump in his throat.

He’s exhausted. He hasn’t even met everyone yet and he’s worn out. The anxiety has wrecked havoc on him for days now, and he’s just so tired. All he wants to do is curl up in bed and sleep, but he knows that’s not going to happen. It has him on the verge of tears and that just makes him angrier with himself because it’s so stupid. He’s crying over being tired? Is he two? He needs to grow up.

“So, this is our room,” Ashton says. He’s the type of person that’s always smiling, Alex thinks. He can practically hear the smile in Ashton’s voice. He was worried about having a roommate, but Ashton doesn’t seem too bad. The consistent happiness could be infectious. “I kinda had my stuff all over the place…I think I got all of it cleared out of your drawers and everything, but if you find a random sock or somethin’, lemme know.”

The room is pretty big, much too big for one person. Alex understands why they’re sharing it. The walls are a pale blue. There are two twin size beds in the middle. The one on the left is messy, red sheets and a grey comforter thrown haphazardly around. A laptop sits in the center with headphones plugged in. Ashton’s side of the room is plastered in posters. His dresser is covered in picture frames and trophies. 

It looks like any teenager’s room. You wouldn’t know this was a group home from the outside.

Alex wheels his suitcase over to his bed and Ashton follows, setting the duffel down next to it.

“You up for going downstairs and meeting everyone, or do you need a minute?”

“What?”

Ashton rolls his eyes. “I know anxiety when I see it. You look like you’re gonna pass out, mate.”

Alex swallows. Inhale, exhale. He hasn’t been nearly as discreet as he thought. “I, um, I n-need a m-minute…”

Ashton smiles. “’Course, mate. I’ll be downstairs. Come down whenever you’re ready.”

…

“Hey, goin’ down?”

Alex jumps at the voice, whirling around to see Michael standing at the top of the stairs. “Y-Yeah…”

“I’ll come with,” Michael offers, taking the stairs two at a time and joining him at the bottom. “It sucks being the new kid. I was there a couple years ago. I hated it.”

_Great_ , Alex scoffs to himself, following Michael down the hall and into a large family room.

He’s overwhelmed instantly. There are so many people in this room.

There are three large couches and they’re all stuffed. 

He doesn’t know where to start. All he knows is that it’s suddenly getting harder to breathe and he’s starting to get dizzy. The room is starting to spin, and it’s taking everything in him to keep steady. Fuck.

He can’t have a panic attack. Not here, and definitely not now. 

There’s a hand on his back, and he flinches away instinctively. “You okay?”

“C-Can’t breathe…” The words are choked out and he doesn’t look up. He can’t. The dizziness is getting worse. He feels like he’s about to pass out. 

“Guys, give him space.”

“Y’all should know how anxiety fuckin’ works by now.”

“Stop staring at him, don’t you know that makes it worse?”

“God, will everyone just shut the hell up?”

“Hey, you’re doing great. Just breathe, okay? Focus on that. Deep breaths. In, and out. Come on, you can do it.” The voice is soothing. It’s calm and soft, gentle enough not to startle him but firm enough to get through to him. 

He focuses on the sweet nothings coming out of the stranger’s mouth as he inhales and exhales. It takes a good five minutes for his breathing to return to normal, and when it does, he sways, exhausted.

“Shit, here. Come sit.” A hand grabs his wrist and leads him over to one of the couches. He should be freaking out at the touch and sitting in such close proximity with a stranger, but he’s too tired to care anymore. The panic attack took any remaining energy he had.

“Sorry,” he whispers, finally looking up. 

The boy kneeling in front of him smiles. “Are you okay?”

“I guess,” Alex mumbles. “Tired.”

“I’ll bet. I’ve never had a panic attack, but they seem exhausting.”

“They are,” Alex manages, forcing a smile. 

“Jesus, I’m a dick. Haven’t even introduced myself. I’m Jack, pleased to meet you,” he says in a mockingly haughty tone, making a big show of holding out his hand for Alex to shake. “No, but really. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Alex.”

“Well, Alex, welcome to Willow Park. You’re gonna love it.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the support on the first chapter! I didn't expect that much love and seeing it made me so happy! Please keep it up, the more comments and kudos I get, the more motivated I feel to write the next chapter. It's inspiring to know so many of you are loving this. 
> 
> Trigger warnings - self-harm, anxiety, panic attacks, and mentions of suicide.

Alex expects the looks.

He expects the fake concern, the walking around on eggshells, the ‘oh, you just had a panic attack and you could explode at any second’ attitude. 

It’s what he’s always gotten when he’s had panic attacks at school. People don’t know how to handle it so they don’t. He gets the fake sympathy, the treating him like he’s made of glass, the overall disregard for his feelings about the situation in favor of what _they_ think he needs. No one bothers to ask what he actually needs, no, they’re all experts on anxiety and panic attacks and already know. 

He expects the worst, which explains his surprise when it never comes.

It’s like they actually know how to handle this. That’s new for him. Even when Jordan joins them and Ashton tells her what happened, all she does is ask if he’s okay and leave it at that. 

The front door swings open, and he’s instantly overwhelmed by the flurry of activity. Footsteps pound against the wood floor as kids rush forward, and only when he forces himself to look up does he understand why. 

A woman is standing in the doorway, which he assumes is Jordan’s wife. She has long black hair cascading down her back, and she’s dressed in a black and grey flannel over a grey tank top and black skinny jeans with converse. The black and skinny jeans seem to be a recurring theme. He’s not complaining. 

“Let her come in the house!” Jordan calls from behind, laughing. She shakes her head. “Animals.”

“They want their shit,” the woman chuckles, toeing off her shoes and setting paper bags down on the floor. “Ash, here, take your drum sticks. And for the love of god, try and make them last longer than a week, okay?”

After she’s finished handing things out and the doorway is sufficiently empty, she comes over to where Alex and Jordan are standing. He fidgets nervously, shoving his hands in his pockets and staring down at the floor. Every time he’s around someone he doesn’t know the anxiety starts building. He’s nervous and he doesn’t know why. It’s not like she’s gonna do something to him, but being around her has his heart racing and his palms sweating. 

“Is this the new one?” 

“Yeah, he just got here a couple hours ago,” Jordan replies. 

“Alexander, right?” The woman asks, glancing up at him and holding out a hand. “I’m Quinn, Jordan’s wife. The kids call me mama, but you can stick with Quinn if it makes you feel more comfortable.” 

He takes her hand shakily. “Alex. It’s, um, n-nice to meet you…”

“While we’ve got you by yourself,” Jordan says from behind. “Come on, let’s sit. We’ve got some things to go over with you.”

He takes a seat in the armchair and they sit down on the couch next to it. He notes their body language, how they fit together almost like puzzle pieces. It’s a welcome distraction from his head and his tendency to overthink every ‘we need to talk’ situation.

“First, are you sure you’re okay?” Jordan asks. “That looked like a pretty bad panic attack.”

If Quinn’s surprised, she doesn’t voice it. He’s grateful. He’s never liked the attention he gets after one of his episodes. He knows they’re too serious for people to just let go, but he wishes they wouldn’t ruminate on them for so long. He gets panic attacks. It’s not the end of the world. He wishes people would stop acting like some part of him is broken because he forgets how to breathe sometimes.

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “It happens a lot. I’m used to it.”

“We get information about you,” Quinn informs him gently. “We know what got you taken out of your old house, and that you have depression, anxiety, PTSD, and you self-harm.” She shoots him a sheepish smile. “Don’t worry, okay? No one else knows, and they won’t unless you decide to tell them. It’s just a requirement by the state that we have this information.”

“They probably placed you in this group home in particular because of it,” Jordan says. “You’re not alone here, Alex. Everyone here struggles with mental health issues, myself and Quinn included. We have a friend who’s a psychiatrist, and he comes by three times a week for group and individualized therapy sessions with the kids. A lot of them have his number and text him when things are really bad; he’s very good with this stuff. He’ll be here tomorrow, so you’ll meet him then.”

“W-What? I have to go to therapy?” He can’t disguise the break in his voice. The one thing he’s been terrified of for years is finally upon him. Tears are welling in his eyes and they start falling too quickly for him to force them back. 

He’s been to therapy before. He was forced into it right after Tom died. They thought it would help with the grieving process. It didn’t. The therapist was a fucking bitch that made him feel guilty for having the feelings he did. He couldn’t help wanting to join his brother after his death. It was just what he was feeling. He thought he was supposed to share that. Apparently you’re only supposed to share your feelings if they’re the right ones. 

“Alex, sweetie, breathe. It’s gonna be okay.”

“I don’t wanna go to therapy.” He hiccups, shaking his head vigorously. “Please don’t make me. I’m okay, I promise. I don’t need it.”

“That’s not up to us,” Jordan tells him. “It’s decided on by the state. But babe, try it out, before you make up your mind. Lucas is really nice. He’s been through hell and back himself, and he knows what anxiety and depression do to a person. He’ll be able to help you.”

Alex swallows hard and forces himself to nod. It was bold, saying no. He shouldn’t have done it. 

He’s just glad they didn’t punish him for it.

…

“So, whaddya think of the new kid?”

Jack shrugs, pressing a button on the controller and keeping his eyes focused on the TV. “He seems pretty cool. Kinda feel bad for him though.”

“Yeah, that was a real shitty panic attack,” Michael agrees. “I hated being the new kid. Thinking everyone was out ta get me and being too anxious to do anything? Fuck that.”

“I’ll see what I can find out,” Ashton offers. “Hopefully he’ll open up a bit.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Jack warns. “He’s a cutter. Obsessed with making sure his sleeves don’t come up. He’s bound to have locked a ton of shit away.”

“How do you know?” Gerard asks. Jack lifts his head and glances at him. He didn’t even know Gerard was listening. He’s usually content with sketching or talking in hushed whispers with Frank and just being a fly on the wall to most of their conversations. Jack loves the guy, but he wishes he’d talk a little more, to someone that isn’t his boyfriend.

“He went for his wrist,” Jack tells them. “During the panic attack, I saw him reach for his wrists and scratch and like, press on them? I dunno, it was weird. But he’s not gonna be telling us shit anytime soon.”

“He was pressing on fresh cuts because it hurts,” Awsten speaks up. “Either that or to try and reopen them and make them bleed because that helps. I do it sometimes.”

“Oh, the almighty Awsten has pulled his tongue out of Geoff’s throat long enough to grace us with his presence.”

“Shut up,” Awsten whines, hiding his face in Geoff’s neck. “We’re not that bad.”

“You’re almost as bad as moms, and they’re _married_ ,” Luke speaks up. 

“Says the person who sleeps in Michael’s room almost every night,” Jack retorts. “Although it’s kinda nice not being kept awake by your fuckin’ snorin’. You sound like a trucker dude, you gotta get that checked.”

“I don’t snore!”

“The dark circles under my eyes say you do.”

“Fuck off.”

“You snore Luke,” Calum says. “Doesn’t bother me too much, but you do snore.”

Luke’s response is an incoherent whine. He shoves his face into Michael’s shoulder and Jack rolls his eyes. He loves his friends, but so many of them are in relationships and the PDA is fucking annoying. He’s glad Luke and Michael picked Calum to torture instead of him. If he had to share a room with those two he’d probably jump off the roof.

“Hey, where’s Brendon?”

“Where do you think?” 

“So we shouldn’t expect him back tonight, god fuckin’ bless.”

“Who’s taking his room?”

“I might,” Ashton says quietly. “Give Alex some space, y’know? So it’s not as overwhelming.”

“Talk to him first,” Awsten advises. “Anxiety fucks with your head. You don’t want him thinking it’s because you’re disgusted by him or you don’t wanna room with him. Irrational as fuck but that’s what he’s gonna think.”

“I know,” Ashton replies. “You know we’re all gonna havta tell our stories at some point?”

“We need to trust him first,” Gerard mutters. 

“He seems pretty harmless.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

“Just…be aware of it, okay? We gotta talk soon. How’s he gonna trust us if he doesn’t know anything about us?”

“How’re we gonna trust him if we don’t know anything about him?”

…

When they sit down to dinner, Alex is freaking out.

He’s trying to force it back, trying to ignore it, trying to pretend it doesn’t exist in hope that the panic will dissipate, but there are sixteen other people at tables around him and he’s never been more overwhelmed. 

Meeting everyone was terrifying. There were so many of them. It felt never ending, like people just kept coming and coming. Aside from the people he knows (Ashton, Michael, Jack, Jordan, and Quinn), there’s Luke, Calum, Awsten, Geoff, Gerard, Frank, Patrick, Pete, Brendon, Vic, and Kellin. All of them seem friendly enough, but he’s still so nervous. 

He’s definitely going to say the wrong thing and fuck something up and cause them all to hate him. He can feel it. He’s not gonna be able to say something without someone getting offended by it, and that’s what he’s most worried about. Making enemies that you have to live with would be horrible, but it seems inevitable. 

“Hey, I was wondering…” He snaps his head up and whips it around to look at Ashton. The ever-present smile is there on his face, as he cuts his chicken and puts a forkful in his mouth. 

He’s sitting at a table with Ashton, Michael, Calum, Jack, and Luke. It’s relatively calm. He knows half of them from earlier, and Luke and Calum don’t seem too threatening. Luke and Michael are all over each other and Calum and Jack are making a show of being overly bothered by it, so the only person that’s really paying him any attention is Ashton. He has to get used to Ashton, being that he’s his roommate and all.

“Y-Yeah?”

“Brendon’s spending the night with his boyfriend,” Ashton says softly. “And he has his own room since there’s an odd number of us. I was just wondering if you’d be more comfortable if I took his room and let you be by yourself for a night, so you can kinda adjust. It’s not that I don’t wanna be your roommate or anything, but I know I would’ve liked my space my first night here, so I thought I’d just offer it.”

Alex shrugs. “I…I don’t wanna be a bother. I don’t mind if you sleep in the room. Gotta get used to it at some point, don’t I?”

He sends what he hopes to be a sheepish smile toward Ashton, but it seems more nervous than anything. His anxiety is seeping through the cracks; there’s nothing he can do to contain it.

“What do you want?” Ashton asks gently. “You get a choice here Alex, you get some control. I dunno what your life was like before you got here, but you have a say here. You get to decide. What do you want?”

Alex swallows. He could take the easy way out and tell Ashton to sleep in Brendon’s room and use the night to wallow in self-pity. He knows the intention is to breathe, get some space, calm down, and adjust to being here, but he also knows himself well enough to know he’s just going to cut and cry himself to sleep and that seems so much more appealing than being forced to interact and explain the scars on his arms and flitter around the room nervously in hope that Ashton doesn’t find one of his razor blades. 

“Can you sleep in Brendon’s room? Please?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for the love! I'm so glad you're all enjoying this! 
> 
> Trigger warnings - self-harm, depression, anxiety, panic attacks, suicide, abuse, and mentions of eating disorders.

Alex doesn’t sleep.

He doesn’t expect to, not after the day he’s had. His mind won’t shut up and he finds himself close to tears in frustration because he’s so _tired_ but he can’t fucking _sleep_. 

He misses home.

He knows it’s shitty and he should be happy he’s out of that hellhole, but he misses the familiarity and ability to be comfortable and not feeling like everything he does is going to be judged. It’s like living his entire life on the same level of anxiety he feels walking into a crowded room and it’s draining.

He can’t forget about therapy and what Jordan said about everyone here struggling with mental health issues. It can’t be true. Ashton looks so happy, how could he be hiding a dark secret like depression or suicidal thoughts? It’s just a bullshit lie to try and make him feel better and he doesn’t like it.

He’s done the therapy thing before. It hasn’t worked. What the hell makes them think it’ll work this time? He has things under control, but no one seems to realize that. No one gives a shit what he wants. They say he’s finally got some say over what happens to him and then force him into something that’s only gonna make things worse. How is that having control?

A knock on the door startles him. His heart is back to racing, and the room suddenly feels a lot warmer. He’s sweating. It’s not even hot outside, and he’s sweating. 

“Alex? It’s Ashton, can I come in? I need to grab some clothes.”

He swallows hard and does a quick once-over of the room, making sure no blades or bloody tissues are visible. He made sure to throw them all in a plastic bag and put that in the trash to avoid suspicion. 

He can’t get caught.

“Y-Yeah, it’s open!” He calls back nervously. The doorknob turns and Ashton steps inside, smile ever-present on his face.

“Hey! How was your night? Sleep well?” Ashton steps over to his dresser and begins rifling through it. 

Alex shrugs. “I guess…I didn’t really sleep much…”

Ashton pulls out a pair of black skinny jeans and a grey tank top and closes the drawer. “I know what you mean. I didn’t sleep well my first night here either. Everything’s so new, y’know? And scary. But you adjust. You learn to relax and let your guard down. You’re safe here, Alex. I promise.”

Alex rolls his eyes. “I thought I was safe at my parents’ house, but look how that turned out.”

…

“He was abused.”

Ashton slides into a chair at the breakfast table with a sigh. 

“What?”

“Dude, how’d you get that outta him so quick?”

“He talked already? Damn.”

“He didn’t tell me shit,” Ashton mutters. “He just said something about not being safe at his parents’ house, and why else wouldn’t he be? The people that’re supposed to love him and care for him and support him were fuckin’ abusive assholes. _Fuck_. Why is the world so fucked up?”

“S’not like he’s the first person to go through that,” Gerard grumbles. He reaches for his coffee mug and takes a long sip. “Life fuckin’ sucks. He’s not some precious flower just because his parents hit him a little.”

“You’re a real pleasure in the mornings, aren’t you?” Quinn rolls her eyes and sits down in one of the only empty chairs. “Guys, seriously. Be nice to him, please. He’s been through a lot, and he’s really scared. Remember how scared you were when you get here? Act like you wish everyone would’ve acted with you.”

“He’s not gettin’ special treatment, if that’s what you’re gettin’ at.”

“No one said anything about special treatment, Frank,” Jordan says, setting a plate down in front of Quinn and sliding into the seat next to her with her own plate. “Just be careful. He had a panic attack yesterday. That should tell you a lot about where he is with his mental health.”

“Don’t go out of your way to be a fucking dick,” Jack growls, stabbing some eggs with his fork. “He hasn’t done shit to you. Leave him the _fuck_ alone.”

“Jesus, calm down. I haven’t said anything to your little boyfriend, get off my ass.”

“He’s _not_ my boyfriend!”

“All of you need to calm down,” Quinn warns. “It’s too early for me to start taking phones.”

“Mom!”

Jordan rolls her eyes. “You can talk shit about each other but whine when there are consequences? You know the rules.”

“I’m just saying,” Gerard mumbles. “We’ve all been through tough shit. We’re all fucked up. None of us got babied, why should he?”

“You don’t need to baby me. I can take care of myself.”

Ashton’s blood runs cold at the new voice. He lifts his head and finds him looking into Alex’s eyes, expecting to see anger, but Alex doesn’t look angry.

Just tired, but not the kind of tired sleep can fix.

…

“Ashton, Mikey, Awsten, Kellin, Vic, Gerard, Frank, Jack, and Alex! Lucas is here!”

Alex freezes. The rush of cold is overwhelming, spreading over his body in waves. His heart is beginning to race again and he feels sort of dizzy, almost faint. Even thinking about therapy had him terrified – the prospect of actually going to a session is ten times worse. He’s starting to feel his throat close up and it’s so frustrating because he cannot have another panic attack and cause another scene. They already think he’s a baby.

“Hey, breathe. It’s gonna be okay. You’re not alone, I promise.” A hand touches his shoulder and he does everything in his power not to flinch.

Jack is smiling at him, squeezing his shoulder, and Alex tries to breathe, tries to convince himself of the verity of Jack’s words, but he’s still shaking as he follows everyone downstairs to the basement.

There are ten chairs set up in a circle. Jordan and Quinn are standing off to the side, talking to a man Alex assumes to be Lucas. He’s leaning against one of the walls, arms crossed over his chest, nodding to what Jordan is saying.

His appearance throws Alex off completely. He’s dressed in black skinny jeans and a red and black flannel over a Linkin Park shirt. He’s rolled the sleeves of the flannel up to his elbows, showing off the ink on his arms. There are more tattoos poking out of the collar of his shirt and traveling up his neck. His septum is pierced and he has gauges in his ears, and his hair is shoved into a grey beanie. 

This is the therapist? He doesn’t look like any kind of therapist Alex has ever known.

He’s known business casual, pencils behind ears, no nonsense haircuts, blazers and pantsuits and glasses perched on nose bridges. He’s known uncomfortable and tense and feet tapping and pens clicking and fists being slammed on desks. The thought of therapy is terrifying, but maybe that’s because he’s had all the wrong therapists.

“Oh, is this the new one?” Lucas recognizes him immediately and all the reassurance Alex had begun to feel about him based on his appearance flies out the window. He didn’t expect to get called out this quickly. It’s back to racing hearts and sweaty palms and feeling like he’s about to faint.

“You’re okay.”

There’s Jack’s voice yet again, so soft it’s barely audible but the only thing keeping him from full-on freaking out. Jack’s not trying to call attention to his obvious panic attack and Alex appreciates it so much. The whispers and soft touches are enough to bring him back to calm without overwhelming him and he’s so grateful.

“Sorry.” Lucas holds both hands up in surrender. “Didn’t mean to scare you. It’s nice to meet you though, I’m Lucas. I know you’re really nervous, and I’m not going to force you to say or do anything that’ll make it worse. If you just wanna listen today, you’re free to. If you wanna join in, that’d be awesome, but don’t feel like you have to, okay?”

Alex can do this.

At least that’s what he keeps telling himself as all of them take seats in the circle. He slides in next to Jack and sneaks a glance at him. 

Jack looks so composed. He doesn’t look anxious at all. If he is, he’s great at not showing it. This looks like a normal day for him. Alex wishes he could be in that place.

“Alright, let’s get started,” Lucas says. He doesn’t have a pad of paper or a pen in his hands. He’s not writing in anything. That’s new too. Every therapist Alex’s had wrote down every word he said and then brought up his past words continually, to the point where he felt suffocated…by himself. 

Maybe this _will_ be different.

“We’re gonna go around, gimme a number, 1 to 10, of how bad things are today.”

They go around, and Alex learns that today’s a particularly good day for Ashton (3), and a particularly bad one for Awsten (9). When they get to Jack, he forces a smile. “I dunno…6? I don’t feel worse than usual but I don’t feel better either.”

The fact that Jack has to deal with this at all hurts. Depression sucks. Alex wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemy, let alone the one person he’s growing to trust here. Jack doesn’t deserve it.

When everyone looks at him, Lucas shoots him a reassuring smile. “Alex is just watching today. Mike, what about you?”

They continue until everyone’s given their number. It’s a mix, some higher than others, but Awsten’s is the highest, and Alex assumes that’s why Lucas turns to him first. “Awsten, you said a 9…do you wanna talk about why? Is something making you feel really shitty, or is it just a bad day?”

Awsten shrugs and plays with a loose string on his sweatshirt sleeve. “Geoff and I had a fight. My parents are trying to get into contact with me. All the fuckin’ food here has too many calories and I always feel like a fuckin’ cow. That enough or you want me to go on?”

“First things first, you’re gonna stay back after and you and I are gonna talk,” Lucas replies. “If you’re comfortable sharing, what was the fight with Geoff about?”

Awsten seemed angry at first, but Alex watches the tears start to well in his eyes and feels the ache in his chest when Awsten starts crying. “H-He…he doesn’t understand. Why I feel so fat, why I hate eating. He’s starting to get annoyed. He’s gonna leave me and I won’t survive that. I just…I don’t feel like I deserve him. He’s so amazing and he makes me so happy and all I do is make him miserable. If I just killed myself I’d give him an out without forcing him to be a dick.”

Lucas opens his mouth to answer, but Jack beats him to it, “That’s fuckin’ bullshit. He’s not gonna leave you. He loves you, Awsten. He really does. Maybe he’s having a bad day too.”

“You and Geoff are disgusting as fuck,” Mikey adds. “But it’s obvious that you love each other. He’d be stupid to leave you. And god forbid he does, I’ll kick his ass to Jupiter and back.”

“Geoff loves you so much, Awsten.” Alex watches in awe as Gerard reaches over and grabs one of Awsten’s hands, squeezing tightly. “He doesn’t understand your eating disorder because he doesn’t have one, and that’s always gonna be an issue for you guys, but you’ll work through it. You’re gonna be okay, I promise.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Lucas says. “These guys are right, Awsten. Your mental illnesses don’t define you. You are worth so much more than the imbalance of chemicals in your head telling you otherwise. But the reality is you have depression, you have that imbalance of chemicals, and it’s gonna be the bitch that makes you feel worthless and guilty and shitty and sometimes even suicidal. What we gotta do is work on turning those negative thoughts positive. Have you been journaling?”

Awsten’s gaze travels to the floor, and Lucas sighs. “Have _any_ of you been journaling?”

“I’ve been really trying to,” Ashton says. “There’ve been a couple days where I just didn’t feel up to it, but I’ve done it most of the week. And it’s made me feel a lot better.”

“There we go!” Lucas snaps his fingers with a smile. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. The journal is a way to get your feelings on paper so you’re not locking them up and repressing them until an inevitable breakdown. If you deal with things as they happen, you avoid breakdowns. So Awsten, I want you to get back to journaling. Even if it’s a paragraph, every day just write down how you’re feeling and how your day was. It’ll help, trust me. All of you, by our next session, I want you to try and write every day. Try. It’s okay if you can’t.”

“I just…it’s easier to cut when I feel bad,” Awsten ventures. “Because most of the time I don’t wanna feel better.”

“I get that,” Vic speaks up. “Like, most of the time I don’t wanna feel better. I don’t wanna feel anything.”

“I know,” Lucas replies. “That’s the depression talking. You wanna be numb, you don’t want to feel, you just wanna stay in bed forever. But it’s not going to change unless you do something about it. Trust me, I’ve been where you are. Taking blade to wrist is so much easier than taking pen to paper. But if you try, put down the blade and pick up the pen, you’re training your brain. You’re training it not to associate feeling bad with hurting yourself, which in the end, is what we want. We’re gonna keep going with what’s going on with you, Awsten, and then move onto the rest of you, but I really want you all to try and journal. I’m not gonna keep talking about how life-changing the results are. I want you to experience it for yourselves. But it won’t happen if you don’t try.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings - self-harm, depression, suicidal thoughts, anxiety, and panic attacks.

“Let me see your arms, kid.”

Awsten sighs. He knows too well what this is about. Lucas told them when he first started coming over for therapy sessions that no one’s cuts would be shown during a group sessions, as not to trigger someone else. They’re all at different places on the self-harm spectrum. Some of them do it daily, others only when things are particularly bad, and some of them don’t do it but are seriously considering starting. Even when Lucas groups all of them that self-harm together to talk about it, they don’t have their cuts on full display. 

“I fucked up,” he mumbles. “It’s bad. You don’t needa see them.”

“Unfortunately, I do,” Lucas replies. “I’ve dealt with my fair share of infections, and trust me, they fuckin’ suck.”

“I’m not gonna get an infection.” He’s not an idiot. He knows that cuts need to be cleaned properly or they’ll get infected. He’s suicidal but not a masochist. He’s heard the horror stories, red, swollen cuts, fevers, nausea, fatigue…it all sounds fucking awful. He doesn’t wanna go through that. 

“Let me make sure.”

“It’s really bad.” He’s doing a bad job of stalling and he knows it. He just doesn’t want to deal with the stupid fucking pity. He doesn’t want to hear how he doesn’t deserve it, he’s worth more, he doesn’t need to do this. He does. 

It’s the only thing that helps.

“I’ve probably done worse to myself,” Lucas says. “Come on kid, lemme see.”

He thought he was good at stare downs, but Lucas is better. He wants to go to bed and he knows what he has to do to get there. Reluctantly, he pulls up both sleeves and holds his arms out in front of Lucas.

Standing there, while Lucas pokes and prods and inspects every new cut, is downright fucking humiliating. He’s glad no one’s found the scars on his thighs because having someone check down there would reach a new level of low. He just wants to go to bed.

“You were right about them being bad,” Lucas mutters. He looks up to meet Awsten’s eyes with a sigh. “This is dangerous, kid. I’m not gonna tell you to quit cold turkey, but…you gotta be careful, okay?”

“Please don’t tell them,” Awsten whispers. His voice breaks. “I can’t…I can’t breathe with them smothering me, please…”

“I know how you feel.” Lucas shoots him a regretful smile. “But I have to tell them, Awsten. These are really bad. You’re too close to going too deep for my liking.”

He shakes his head, angry tears burning at the corners of his eyes. “Can’t you just let it go? Just this once?”

If Lucas tells his moms, it’ll all be over. They’re gonna smother him. Arm checks twice a day, never allowed to be alone, can’t be in the bathroom longer than five minutes, showers can only be ten…it’ll be fucking miserable. He’s been through it before and it’s only made his urge to hurt himself worse. 

“You’ll text or call me the next time you want to cut?”

Awsten nods frantically. “Yes! Anything you want, just please don’t tell them.”

“Don’t make me regret this,” Lucas warns. “Call or text me next time. Please.”

“I will.”

…

“Alex! Come play video games with us!”

Jack beckons him excitedly, and Alex rolls his eyes, turning and heading toward the game room. The house is so big that they have a designated room for gaming, full of all the newest systems, huge couches, beanbag chairs, and even a foosball table in the back. 

He learns right away that the beanbag chairs are unofficially reserved for couples. Frank and Gerard have one and Michael and Luke another. 

The couch Jack’s sprawled out on is the only semi-vacant one, so he lifts Jack’s legs, sits, and puts them down on his lap, shaking all the while. He’s not totally comfortable yet, and who knows if Jack’s even okay with him doing this?

Jack’s smile dispels all his worries, and he turns his gaze to the TV. “What’re we playin’?”

“Cal wanted me to kick his ass at FIFA,” Jack mutters, not taking his eyes off the screen. “But so far, he’s holdin’ his own.”

“Damn fuckin’ right I am,” Calum growls. “Maybe if you spent less time talking shit and more time playing you’d be winning.”

“Asshole.”

Alex glances around the room, observing. Ashton is sitting on the other couch, headphones in, looking at something on his phone. Pete and Patrick are stretched out on the floor, Patrick’s head resting on Pete’s chest and Pete’s arm around his torso. 

“Hey.” Alex turns his head, meeting Awsten’s gaze as he joins them. He perches on the arm of the couch Alex and Jack are sharing, shooting Alex a tight smile.

“Are you okay?” Alex asks timidly. He’s been worried. He’s been here for two days and he’s already attached. It was inevitable from the start. They all seem so genuinely nice; it’s hard not to get attached. The only two he’s staying away from are Gerard and Frank. They hate him anyway, it’s not hard.

Awsten shrugs. There are dark purple bags under his bloodshot eyes. “M’not good at sleeping alone.”

His heart hurts so much for Awsten. He doesn’t know the full story, but from what was said in group, Awsten doesn’t have the best relationship with his parents and the fight with Geoff isn’t making things any better.

He hasn’t seen Geoff since before he knew about any of this. He doesn’t know how bad their fight was, but something tells him things got pretty heated. Awsten’s clearly a mess and if Geoff hasn’t come out of his room, it’s gotta be bad.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know how to help. He’s not used to being on the giving end of these things. People have always tried to help him, not the other way around. 

Awsten shakes his head. “That’s okay. I just needa get my mind off things.”

“I love your hair,” Alex says, in shitty attempt at making conversation. The blue is a really pretty shade. It matches the color of the sky, especially with the way it’s starting to fade.

As weak as he thought that conversation starter was, Awsten lights up, reaching to grasp strands of hair. “Thanks dude! It’s my favorite shade of blue.”

“Have you dyed it any other color?”

“I tried like, this pinky color, a while back, but I really didn’t like it.”

“So it’s gonna be blue again?”

“Yeah,” Awsten forces a smile. “Moms want me to wait a little before I dye it again, though.”

“Why?”

“I dunno, I think-”

“FUCK YOU TOO!”

All the activity in the room stops. It’s like someone hit pause on life. Heads turn toward the doorway, and Alex’s stomach sinks at what he sees. 

Kellin is leaning against the wall, eyes closed, silent tears streaming down his cheeks. 

Alex doesn’t know what to do. He wants to go over to him, see if he’s okay, maybe hug him a little because god this is fuckin’ heartbreaking, but he’s only been here for two days and he doubts Kellin would be comfortable with that. But at the same time, watching him cry isn’t the best feeling in the world. He’s stuck.

He doesn’t have to contemplate for too long, because Jack leaps off the couch and rushes over, and one by one, everyone else follows. Alex joins them, watching anxiously as Jack thumbs tears off Kellin’s cheeks and tries to get him to explain.

“What’s going on, Kel?”

Kellin hiccups and a flood of fresh tears flow from his eyes. “Vic…he got a new girlfriend…”

…

“How is he?”

Jack runs a hand through Kellin’s sweaty hair. “Sleeping, thank fuckin’ god.”

“That was a really bad panic attack,” Alex mutters, sliding down onto the floor next to him. “Do you…I dunno if it’s too much for me to ask, but…what happened?”

Jack sighs, shaking his head. “Kellin’s like, hardcore fuckin’ in love with Vic. They had a thing almost a year ago… It didn’t last very long because they’re both fuckin’ awkward ass idiots that were walking on eggshells around each other. Things kinda…haven’t been the same between them since.”

“They used to be best friends,” Pete adds, holding out a tray. “Mama made hot chocolate.”

Jack shakes his head. “I’m good.”

“She said you need to drink it.”

“I’m fine.” Jack spits the words through gritted teeth. He’s trying not to cause a scene, but that won’t happen if Pete doesn’t fucking drop it. He doesn’t want Alex to find out about this. 

Alex looks at him warily, reaching for a mug. “Don’t like hot chocolate?”

“Just not in the mood, I guess.”

“Jack…”

“Drop. It.” Jack looks pointedly at Alex, hoping Pete will get the hint. Alex cannot find out about this. He’s the only person in the house that doesn’t look at him with those stupid pity eyes. It’s so fucking refreshing. If he finds out it’ll all be over. He’ll be just like everyone else. 

Pete sighs. “Suit yourself.” He takes one of the other mugs and sets the tray down. “Is he okay?”

“Guess so,” Jack replies. “God, I really wanna bash Vic’s fuckin’ face in.”

“The fuck happened?” Jack’s stomach turns as Patrick joins them. He has a plate of mini bagel pizzas in his hands, and Jack can’t take his eyes off it. He knows they’re about to have the same argument and he can’t risk Alex finding out. Patrick puts the plate in the middle of the little circle they’ve created. “Mom wants us to eat. Dinner’s gonna be a little late, they’re on the phone with Lucas.”

“Vic’s got a girl.” He’s trying to hide his discomfort with the distraction of Kellin’s problems which makes him the worst human being in the world but he’s past the point of caring. “And he’s been sneaking out to see her and apparently they do coke together? He accidentally texted Kellin something meant for her and shit hit the fan.”

“Dammit,” Patrick growls. “What the hell is wrong with him?”

“Don’t act like you haven’t purged at all while you’ve been here,” Jack says. “We’ve all slipped up.”

“He shoulda been more careful. Or maybe checked the fuckin’ person before sending the text.”

“Damn right.” 

“Did he- what’s the damage?” Pete asks.

“Scratched up his arms pretty good. It was a really bad panic attack.”

“Fuck.”

One by one, people start filtering into the room. Awsten takes a seat next to Alex, Luke crawls onto Michael’s lap, and Calum rests his head on Ashton’s shoulder. Geoff is one of the last people to enter, and Jack watches the hint of light die from Awsten’s eyes when he picks the furthest possible seat from him.

Awsten bites his lip and presses his head into the crook of Alex’s neck, surprising everyone. Alex flinches at the touch but adjusts fairly quickly, wrapping an arm around Awsten’s torso and glaring over at Geoff.

Jack sighs. The hard part isn’t even over yet. The real bitch is gonna be trying to explain everything to their moms. They’re obviously gonna need to know why Kellin had such a bad panic attack, and that can’t be explained without ratting Vic out. He’s gonna be pissed.

“Lucas is on his way.” Jordan walks into the room, Quinn following close behind. “Now, would someone like to tell me what the hell happened?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's kinda a whirlwind, guys. A lot of stuff happens, but please, bear with me.
> 
> Trigger warnings - anxiety, panic attacks, self-harm, depression, eating disorders, and mentions of suicidal thoughts.

He could get used to this.

It’s been over a week and Alex has finally settled into a routine and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love it. 

He has friends. He has the closest thing to parents. He has _people_. He has people who actually give a shit about him for once in his life. He has affection and love and soft touches and a way to calm down after panic attacks, he has _control_.

It feels so fucking good.

Part of him feels bad for feeling so good, because things at the house are really shitty. They have been ever since all the shit went down with Kellin and Vic. 

Jordan and Quinn were _not_ happy when they found out what Vic was doing. It really solidified them as parents, at least in Alex’s mind, when they actually grounded him. He’s not allowed to leave the house for another week. 

Vic’s not speaking to Kellin, everyone else isn’t speaking to Vic, and Geoff and Awsten still haven’t pulled their heads out of their asses and had a real conversation. But it’s a distraction from his own head, so Alex’ll take it.

“I mean, why the fuck is he pissed at _me_? S’not like I went through his phone or somethin’”

He zones back into the conversation at the end of Kellin’s frustrated rant, nodding sympathetically, pretending he’s heard the whole thing. 

They’re sitting in the game room, but the TV is off. They’ve been talking for hours and it feels like heaven. Being around people who actually understand him feels like a dream. 

“He’s a dick and you deserve better,” Jack says, slinging an arm around Alex’s shoulders. He smiles, curling up and into Jack, letting his head flop onto his shoulder.

“Alex,” Awsten whines, when his body is shifted as Alex moves. He has his head in Alex’s lap and his legs draped over the arm of the couch. “Come back…”

“Yeah, get back to cuddling _my_ boyfriend.”

Alex freezes. Awsten goes rigid against him. Geoff is glaring at them both from across the room. “What, we have one fight and you go cuddling up to some other guy?”

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me right now?” Alex shoots back. Awsten sits up and turns to sit properly, but doesn’t look up from his lap. Their bodies are still pressed together so Alex can feel him shaking. “You really think he’d cheat on you?”

“I _think_ you two are acting as coupley as Patrick and Pete,” Geoff mutters, looking pointedly at the other couch the two are indeed in the same position as Awsten and Alex.

“ _I_ think you don’t have room to call us out when you can’t even accept that your boyfriend has a goddamn eating disorder,” Alex growls. He’s shaking too, so hard that Jack can probably feel it, but he’s more angry than anxious. 

“C-Can I talk to Geoff alone?” Awsten asks quietly. 

Alex looks at him in surprise. He was not expecting that. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Awsten replies. He gets to his feet and motions for Geoff to follow, and Alex watches as they leave the room, hoping this doesn’t end worse than it started.

…

“What the hell is your problem?” Awsten asks. He’s trying so hard to keep his voice from shaking, but it’s difficult when his heart is racing and his mind is going a thousand miles a minute. 

“You tell me,” Geoff shoots back. “You’re the one fuckin’ cuddling with another guy!”

“We’re _friends_!” Awsten cries. “I’ve cuddled with Jack before, you never accused me of cheating then!”

“That’s Jack’s personality,” Geoff mutters. “He’s like that. I don’t fuckin’ know this new kid. He’s been here a week, how do you trust him already? Or are you really so desperate for somebody to love you that you’re ready to go flying into the arms of anyone who gives you a second look?”

The tears start falling. They burn at the corners of his eyes and he appreciates the pain. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Aws, I-”

“I can’t do this.”

Everything hurts. His head is spinning and his chest is aching and it’s slowly getting harder to breathe but he refuses to let Geoff see him like this so he’s off, running for the stairs, tripping over his own feet in haste to make it to his room and close the door so he can fall apart in private.

There’s no way in hell he’s calling Lucas.

…

“So that’s two people in this house I gotta kill, damn. Who’s next? May as well tell me now.”

“Fuck you, can’t you see this is serious?”

“I’m being serious!”

“No one is going to jail for murder, jesus christ. Calm the fuck down.”

They’re all gathered in Awsten and Kellin’s room. It wasn’t hard to get the story after they heard Awsten fly up the stairs and Geoff come back into the game room looking undeniably guilty. 

“What can we do?” Kellin asks, grabbing one of Awsten’s hands and squeezing. 

“Do you want me to kick his ass?” Michael offers. “’Cause I will. I don’t give a fuck what moms think.”

“No,” Awsten replies softly. “I want this to be a dream. I wanna wake up next to him tomorrow, stupidly happy like we were. I just…I don’t want any of this to be real.”

A tear slips down his cheek and he turns his head back into his pillow, closing his eyes. 

Alex sighs, rubbing his shoulder. “How can we help?”

“And what are we gonna tell moms?” Patrick asks. “They’re gonna start asking questions soon…”

“Nothing,” Awsten mumbles. “I don’t wanna talk about it anymore. I just wanna sleep.”

“They’re not gonna let you get away with skipping a meal,” Luke says gently. “You know how they are with that.”

“I feel sick.”

“I’ll try and convince them,” Ashton offers. “But that means I havta tell them…”

“If it’ll make them leave me alone, do it,” Awsten replies. “And can you all maybe…get out? I love you and I know you wanna help, but I just wanna be alone right now.”

“Not totally alone,” Jack replies. “One of us is staying. You can’t be by yourself right now. Who’s it gonna be?”

“Alex.”

…

“Dude, what the hell’s your problem?”

“You don’t _say_ that to a person, let alone your fuckin’ boyfriend.”

Geoff lets his head flop back against the couch cushion, closing his eyes. People have been yelling at him for the past half hour and he’s so fucking sick of it. First it was Pete and Patrick with their stupid disappointed eyes, and then Mikey and Calum who just fucking screamed at him. Gerard and Frank are taking a more rational approach, but it’s still making him want to put his head through a wall. 

“I fucked up, okay?” He mutters. “I didn’t realize what I said until it was out there. I’ve never been more sorry about anything.”

“You know Awsten’s fragile,” Frank reminds him. “You know he’s been through a lot. But god, Geoff…that kid fuckin’ adores you. How can you not see it?”

“He loves you so much,” Gerard says. “When we had our last session, he was talking about your fight and how bad it was and how he was scared you’d leave and how suicidal it’d make him. We told him it would never happen…do you know how shitty it is that we were wrong?”

It hurts, hearing that. It fucking kills him. He loves Awsten, so much, more than he’s ready to put into words. Knowing that Awsten’s hurting and it’s his fault is so fucking painful. 

“Take it from someone who’s anorexic,” Frank says bitterly. “’Just eat’ isn’t fucking enough. If it were that easy I wouldn’t have destroyed my goddamn body. Anorexia is a _mental_ illness. It’s in your head. It fucks with your perception. He’s not _trying_ to be difficult. He sees himself as a cow because he has a goddamn disease, Geoff.”

“It takes a fuckton of patience,” Gerard informs him. “And yeah, of course I get frustrated when Frank says he’s not hungry because I _know_ he is. But that’s part of it. Recovery doesn’t happen overnight and expecting too much puts so much pressure on them. They have enough from themselves, they don’t need yours on top of it.”

“I guess I just…I hate seeing him suffer,” Geoff mumbles. “It kills me. He’s like, fuckin’ wasting away, and if he just _ate_ …god, I know I don’t get it, but it seems so easy to me. You’re hungry, so eat.”

“It doesn’t work that way.” Frank rubs a hand over his face and curls further under Gerard’s arm. “It’s not that simple, Geoff. He’s hated food…hate isn’t even the right word, he’s been _afraid_ of food for so long, you can’t expect him to just eat like nothing’s wrong. And there’s no one way to have anorexia. Some people hate their bodies, others just want control. For some people it’s a numbers game, and for others it’s about image. Everyone’s different. Awsten and I aren’t the same, Jack, Mikey, and Brendon are completely different, and Patrick’s on a separate level with bulimia.”

“You gotta get over the ‘if he’s hungry, why doesn’t he eat?’ thing,” Gerard tells him. “It’s so much more than that. For this to work, if you want to fix it, you need to get the fuck over yourself and whatever makes sense in your mind because this is a mental illness and they _don’t_ make sense. They’re random and unpredictable and they fuck everything up and the sooner you learn that and stop tryna make sense of it all, the easier this is gonna be.”

…

“Where’s Geoff?” 

“Went for a walk.” Gerard pulls Frank closer and looks up at Alex. “How’s Awsten?”

Alex swallows. He’s alone with Gerard and Frank and the anxiety that hasn’t been there in over a week is back. These two are the only people in the house he’s still wary around. They’re the ones he’s interacted with the least – hell, he’s talked to Brendon even more and he’s almost never home. 

He’s pretty sure they hate him and that’s not making this any easier. “Sleeping. Kellin’s watching him.”

“You don’t havta look so scared, jesus christ.”

“I-I’m not…” He lies. When his anxiety died down, his stutter went with it. They left together and now they’re back together. They go hand in hand, like an unwelcome pair of houseguests. 

“Listen, I know we were kinda shitty when you first got here, but we just didn’t know you,” Frank explains. “It’s not personal.”

“You’ve been walking around here like a scared deer or somethin’,” Gerard chuckles. “Calm down. It’s all cool, promise.”

Alex drops down onto one of the vacant couches. “I just…I heard what you said, about not wanting to give me special treatment, and I dunno, it felt like you guys already judged me?”

Frank sighs. “That was moms. They told us to be careful with you since you’ve been through some shit. I was having a bad day and being a jerk. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“They really know everything, don’t they?” Alex mumbles, tilting his head against the back of the couch. “I didn’t know they got everything.”

“You feel like they’ve already judged you too, don’t ya?” Gerard supplies. “That they read your file and decided, ‘oh, this kid’s gonna be a handful’ or some bullshit, right?”

Alex nods. “And it just…sucks. I don’t know what they think but I know they think _something_. And fuck, I haven’t felt this good in years, but then I’m alone for five minutes and I remember that and everything falls apart.”

“I get that,” Gerard says. “Believe me, I do. Ask anyone here, I was a total fuckin’ dick to moms for the first month I was here. It wasn’t until mama found me cutting that I realized they’re good people. She cleaned me up and we had this like, real fuckin’ deep conversation at 3 in the morning and things have been different ever since. They really care about us, trust me.”

“You should talk to mama alone, if you feel up to it,” Frank advises. “There’s a lot you don’t know. You’ll understand better once you do.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning - eating disorders, self-harm, suicidal thoughts, depression, and anxiety.

“Looks like we’re the two everyone wants dead.”

Geoff chuckles, although nothing about the situation is funny. He and Vic have been forced to sit by themselves for the past few meals, and while at first it was a punch in the stomach, he’s slowly growing acclimated to the fact that no one in the house is happy with him right now. 

“It’s not funny,” Vic mumbles. “Kellin hates me.”

“Well to be fair, you really fucked up,” Geoff replies. He’s pissed at Vic too, but he can’t not talk to him. Vic’s the only person who’ll actually hold a conversation with him. It’s shitty, and he hates the fact that Kellin is watching his every move and he’s probably killed any friendship he had with him, but he’s desperate. “I kinda see why he’s so mad.”

“We weren’t together!” Vic exclaims. “We haven’t been in almost a year! So I sent him a text meant for her, big fuckin’ deal. What the hell does he have to be pissed about? It’s not like I cheated on him.”

It’s taking everything in him not to get angry. He’s so much closer to Kellin than Vic, and definitely on Kellin’s side in this, but he has to be civil with Vic or he’ll have no one. Their moms know what happened, and while they’re still being polite and respectful to him, he knows they’re not pleased. He can see the disappointment in their eyes and he hates it. 

He put his foot in his mouth big time, and there’s no way to take it back. He fucked up and he misses Awsten and he hasn’t been sleeping properly and he’s tired of walking around the house with a constant lump in his throat but he knows he needs to give it time. Awsten needs time and he’s willing to give it to him. 

“Are you really that stupid?” Geoff mutters, dropping his voice to a whisper. “You can’t tell me you don’t know.”

“I don’t.”

“Jesus fucking christ,” Geoff says angrily. “He’s still in love with you, dickhead. He’s always been in love with you. When you’re in the same room together he can’t keep his eyes off you. He never shuts up about you. He misses you so much. You’ve been his only motivation to stay clean. And then you text him something about snorting cocaine with your new girl and expect him not to fall apart? Fuckin’ bull, man. Pull your head outta your ass and look at what’s in front of you.”

“Like you have any room to talk,” Vic mumbles. Geoff sees a darkness, a sadness in his eyes. He got the message. He knows what he did wrong. He may not admit it, but he knows. 

“I know I fucked up, okay? Awsten’s not ready to fix it. I’m gonna wait until he is.”

“What if he doesn’t want to?” Vic challenges. “Ever? What if you two are over because you couldn’t stop being a jealous asshole?”

“You can’t tell me you’d be okay if your boyfriend was cuddling with someone else the way he was with Alex.”

“You know Awsten’s affectionate as fuck,” Vic replies. “We all know it. Especially when he feels like shit. And who’s fault was it that he wasn’t cuddling with you? You made him feel shitty about something he literally can’t control.”

“Spare me the lecture, I’ve already gotten too many of those,” Geoff replies. “I know I fucked up. I wanna apologize so bad, you have no fuckin’ idea. I wanna hold him and kiss his face and tell him how sorry I am but he’s not ready for that so what can I do?”

“Maybe start by educating yourself on the disease he has so you don’t fuck up again?” Vic shrugs. “If he decides to even give you a second chance, that is.”

…

He doesn’t want to get up today.

He doesn’t want to get out of bed. He doesn’t want to get up and face the world, face the steaming of plate of calories he knows will glue itself to his thighs as soon as he ingests it.

It’s just so hard.

He’s so _hungry_. He’s so hungry that he’s nauseous and his stomach feels like it’s twisting in on itself. Starving is exhausting and he doesn’t want to do it anymore. It takes so much out of him to refuse food and he knows if his stomach had a mind of its own it’d be devouring everything, edibility be damned. 

“Jack? You up? We gotta go.”

He bites his lip and pulls the covers over his face. He can’t do it. He’s not strong enough. If he sees the food he’ll break. He’s worked too hard, come too far, suffered too much to go backward.

There’s a lump in his throat and he feels the tears before they even start. 

“Jack?” The blanket is ripped from his hands. Luke’s annoyed expression shifts to concern when he sees his face. “Hey, you okay?”

“M’not hungry,” Jack mumbles, turning over and burying his face in his pillow. Just saying those words has the tears coming faster because he _is_. He’s so fucking hungry that he can’t put the feeling into words. His stomach is absolutely killing and he knows food is the solution but the thought of eating makes him so unbelievably nauseous.

The bed dips with Luke’s weight and he puts a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “I know you are. I know you feel like crap, Jacky. We both know what’ll help with that.”

“You don’t get it,” Jack mutters. He doesn’t. It’s not that fucking easy. It’s not a matter of if he’s hungry, he should eat. It’s calories and more pounds on the scale and seeing the fat in the mirror and wanting to rip his skin off because he can’t even starve right. Luke doesn’t get that eating now would result in a breakdown that would do so much more damage than just skipping the meal. 

“I’ve been through this enough times with Mikey,” Luke replies. “I know you’re hungry, Jack. You needa eat. You need food to survive.”

“I don’t want to survive.”

…

Jack’s head is swimming. He’s trying to stay afloat amidst the sea of thoughts, but he did end up being forced to eat breakfast and the voices in his head are fucking screaming.

_Have you no fucking self-control?_

_Stupid fucking pig._

_I don’t know why you’re even on this diet when you’ve proved you’re too pathetic to keep it up for one fucking day._

_You’re a lost cause._

_Fucking kill yourself_.

“I miss him. I know I shouldn’t, but I do, and it fuckin’ sucks so bad because he could literally say he wanted me to kill myself and I still wouldn’t love him any less.”

They’ve been talking about Awsten and Geoff for the past hour, although Jack can hardly say he knows what’s going on. He can’t focus. His mind is racing and his head aches terribly. His stomach got a taste of food for the first time in three days and is begging for more. All he can think about is _fatfatfat disgustingdisgustingdisgusting stupidfuckingpig_. It’s getting harder to breathe under the weight of how fucking disgusting he is. 

“You’re not gonna let him get away with this,” Mikey says firmly. “He’ll come in here with some bullshit about how sorry he is and try and make some stupid fucking excuse and you better not fall for that fucking spell. He doesn’t get to say shit like that and get away with it.”

“When we talked to him it still didn’t seem like he got it,” Frank mutters bitterly. “Like, he still thinks eating disorders are stupid and if you’re hungry, you should eat. Like it’s that fucking simple.”

Jack wants to scream. How dare he? How dare that motherfucker even _think_ he has any idea how eating disorders work? ‘If you’re hungry, just eat’. Must be real fucking easy for him, he’s not a fucking cow with a huge ass fucking gut. 

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know the agony of hunger pains or the self-control it takes to refuse food or the stress of constantly counting calories _he doesn’t know_. He doesn’t know and he doesn’t get it and he doesn’t fucking get to be so fucking dismissive over something that’s put Jack through literal fucking hell for _years_. 

“I don’t know why you’re even wasting your time with that asshole.” Jack doesn’t realize what he’s saying until the words are out there, but now he’s started speaking and everyone’s looking at him so he can’t stop. “He doesn’t get it and probably never will and you deserve someone who does. You’ve got enough shit to deal with without his sorry ass.”

“Jack, I don’t know if that’s-”

“No, seriously. You don’t need him. You should be happy you guys are done. He doesn’t deserve you and the sooner you realize that the sooner you can pull your head outta your ass and realize that you’re literally fuckin’ wasting away, Awsten. That’s more important than your stupid ass boyfriend that doesn’t even understand that you have a problem.” 

…

He didn’t mean to do it. 

It’s like he was possessed. He doesn’t remember making the cuts on his arm. It’s automatic, instinctual. It’s scary and he knows it should bother him. 

But it doesn’t.

He holds a tissue to the bleeding cuts lazily. It’s been a long few weeks. Jumping into the middle of a bunch of drama has been a distraction, but it’s also been overwhelming as fuck. He’s caught in the middle of too many problems that aren’t even his own and trying to come up with solutions has him stressed out. 

“Hey, you guys al- shit.”

Alex freezes. 

He lifts his head slowly, hoping, praying for the slightest chance that he’s imagining things. This is a terrible nightmare he has yet to wake up from. It’s not real. It can’t be happening.

His heart is hammering against his chest and he feels like he’s been dunked in a vat of frigid water. The cold sweat is washing over his whole body. “I-I, um, I-I-”

“Hey, alright, breathe.” Quinn steps into the room and slowly walks over to sit on the edge of the bed. She holds her hands up in surrender and smiles reassuringly at him. “It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m not mad, I promise. Don’t worry. Everything’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, dropping his gaze to his lap. “I didn’t…I don’t…” He trails off, forcing himself not to look up. He can’t bear to see the disappointment in her eyes. He’s only known her for about a month, but he’s already starting to see her as a mother and he can’t bear her looking at him like that.

“Can I?” Quinn asks. 

She takes his arm and removes the tissues. He watches as her fingers ghost over the scars and older cuts. She makes sure not to touch any of the fresh wounds, and he’s glad. They hurt like hell, and contact will only irritate them even more. 

Quinn drops his arm and disappears from the room, and he lets his body fall back against his pillows, thanking god Ashton decided to spend the night in Brendon’s room once again. There’s no way to be discreet about something like this when you share a room, and if he’d gotten caught with Ashton there he would’ve never lived it down.

Quinn returns a couple minutes later with a small first-aid kit in her hands. She takes a seat again and pulls a tube of Neosporin from the box. “I know you don’t want me touching them, but you _really_ don’t want an infection. I’m sorry in advance.” 

He winces and bites his lip as she applies the ointment. _It would be worse if she were using hydrogen peroxide_ , he reminds himself. She puts butterfly bandages on each cut once she’s done, before finally meeting his eyes. “Come on. We’re going for a drive.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning - self-harm, eating disorders, anxiety, panic attacks, and mentions of transphobia/dysphoria

Alex is shaking. 

Quinn turns on the ignition and pulls out of the garage. It’s pitch black outside and there are no cars on the road, which is to be expected considering it’s almost 2 in the morning. 

There’s nothing for him to fixate on except the situation, and it’s making him anxious as fuck. Quinn kept her composure throughout that, but maybe it was because she didn’t want to make things worse. Maybe she’s taking him somewhere to yell at him without anyone at the house knowing. Maybe the other shoe is finally going to drop.

He knew things weren’t going to stay good for long.

Quinn puts the car into park and he looks around. They’re on top of a grassy hill that overlooks what he assumes to be the town they live in. It’s beautiful. The stars are shining brightly next to the luminescent moon, and when Alex follows Quinn to sit down on the top of the hall, he can see the entire town. The view is breathtaking.

“You’ve been here almost a month now, I just wanted to check in, see how you’re doing,” Quinn says gently. “Considering what I just saw, I think it’s needed. I’m sorry it’s been a whirlwind. That’s just kinda how it is around here. With fifteen teenagers, someone’s always got drama going on.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Alex confesses. The view is so calming. He’s staring out at the expanse of land below them, trying to take it all in. It’s making this conversation infinitely easier. “It just…happened? It sounds messed up, but…I’ve never felt better. I haven’t felt this good in so long. My house…it was bad. This is such a step up, god, you have no idea…”

Quinn smiles. “That’s good. Jor and I try to give you guys as much freedom as we think you can handle. We don’t wanna be strict. We hate yelling and dishing out punishments is even worse.

“I love it here,” he tells her honestly. “I finally feel like I have people I can rely on and I’ve never had that before but I can’t imagine life without it.”

“You’ve come a long way in a month, kid,” Quinn chuckles. “I thought it’d take you so much longer to adjust. We try not to go off your guys’ files too much, but we did read it, and from what you’ve been through…you really surprised me, kiddo. I’m proud of you.”

He’s weird with compliments. He always has been. He doesn’t know what to say or do and it always makes him anxious because he never wants the person to feel like he doesn’t appreciate it. He does, almost too much, because he can never put his appreciation into words. “I was talking to Gerard and Frank, a while back, and they told me…they told me to ask you about something?”

Quinn nods. “Yeah, that’s why I brought you here. I do wanna talk to you. We get your files before you come to us, and we get to know everything about you, all your history, and I feel like you should in turn get to know about us. Why we decided to do this, why we run things the way we do, and the question we always get…why we don’t have any kids of our own.”

Alex has wondered that. Rather than running a group home where kids come in and out, why not adopt or use artificial insemination? He hasn’t wanted to ask in fear of crossing a line, but he’s been wondering for a long time.

Quinn pulls her phone out and taps the screen a few times, before handing it to him. The picture on the screen is of a young boy, probably around 8, dressed in a denim shirt and ripped black jeans. He has pink bracelets on both wrists, and he’s not looking at the camera. “Is that…you?”

A nod. “That’s me, pre-transition. I was born a boy. I’m transgender.”

Alex stares at her.

He never would’ve known.

Her voice is high, her face is narrow, her hips are wide…she has _boobs_. He never would’ve known if she hadn’t said anything. 

Quinn swipes the screen, and the next picture is of her and a small blonde girl sitting on a park bench and talking animatedly. “I think you can guess who this is.”

“Jordan?”

Another nod. “We grew up together. I met her in the park when we were eight years old on a pretty bad day, and we’ve been best friends since. She was all I had. My mom…she wasn’t supportive of me at all. She left my dad because he was willing to accept me and help me transition when I was old enough. She’s the reason for a lot of my depression, actually. That, and dysphoria. I couldn’t start hormones until I became a teenager and it really sucked until then. It sucked after, too. I had a lot of issues with not passing and I used to be really insecure about it.” She sighs. “Jordan got me through. She saved my life. But she didn’t have it easy either. She’s got bad depression and anxiety, shit she’s struggled with her entire life. Being teenagers…god, that was fuckin’ awful. But trust me, when we say we know what you’re going through, we’re not kidding. We’ve dealt with it all.”

“I don’t…” Alex’s head is spinning. “I don’t know what to say…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Quinn assures him. “Just listen. We both knew we always wanted kids, but…I can’t physically carry a child. I’ve had the surgeries to transition from male to female, but a uterine transplant isn’t in the cards for me, unfortunately. Jor…we looked into artificial insemination, but it’d obviously have to be Jordan who carried the baby, and she…” Quinn swallows hard, reaching for the small silver necklace she’s wearing and gripping it tightly. “She couldn’t stomach the thought of carrying anyone’s child other than mine. Even if the sperm donor was anonymous, she didn’t want to. And who was I to force her?”

“It almost destroyed us. I hit the lowest point I’ve ever been at, beyond rock bottom. I was so suicidal because I felt so guilty. She wanted a baby, and if I hadn’t had the surgeries…if I’d been less selfish…I could’ve given her a child that would’ve been both of ours.” Quinn forces a smile. “I tried to kill myself, and that’s when we realized how bad this was. We talked for weeks, after that, and in the end decided to open Willow Park.”

“We wanted to be the people we wished we had as teenagers. You guys…you’re our kids. Some of the kids here have been here for over ten years. They’ve grown up here. We may not have biological kids, but you guys…you’re so much more than we could’ve hoped for with that. We hear your stories and give you the support and help you need and try to show you that the world is more than the shitty childhoods you’ve had. And along the way, you guys fall in love and go through heartbreak and get the chance to be normal teenagers, because of us, which…I’m not gonna speak for Jordan, but for me, that’s just as fulfilling as raising a biological child.”

There are tears on his face and a lump in his throat. “You’re doing such a good job,” he swallows, “mama.”

…

“Mama, please? I can’t do this today. Please, just let me skip.”

Jack bites down on his lip hard enough to taste copper, forcing himself not to cry. It’s been a long couple of days. Things haven’t gotten any better, and he knows that a group session, being forced to confront things he’s trying so hard to bury, will only push him off the deep end. 

“Babe, you know I’d let you if I could,” Quinn sighs, placing a hand on his shoulder. “But I can tell things are getting bad again and I can’t in good conscience let you skip the one thing that’s supposed to help. You don’t have to say anything. I’ll tell Lucas you don’t feel good and you can just watch. But you have to go.”

Angry tears burn at the corners of his eyes and he turns away. He’s crying and he can’t stop it but that doesn’t mean she needs to get a full show. 

“Jack. Hey. Look at me, kiddo.”

She smiles sadly at him, using her thumbs to brush tears from his cheeks. “I’m sorry. I know you feel like shit. It’s only an hour. Just an hour, and then you can go back to bed.”

“Until I have to force more calories down my throat at dinner,” he chokes out, punctuating the words with a sob. He doesn’t wait for her to say anything. There’s nothing she can say that can make this any better. 

“Jack, hey, you okay?”

Fuck his life.

Alex is standing in front of him, blocking the stairs, and he couldn’t be more frustrated. Of all people, it’s the only one who doesn’t see him as a fuck up that can’t eat right. And now that’s all going to change. Alex is the only person who doesn’t see him as the mess that he is, but that’s officially history.

He pushes past, tears past Alex and up the stairs, straight into his bedroom where for the first time ever he thanks whoever is fucking up there that Luke practically lives in Michael and Calum’s room because he’s alone he can cry and scream and panic and no one has to know.

“Frank, Awsten, Brendon, Mike, Jack! Lucas is here!”

He has less than five minutes.

Less than five minutes to pull himself together, hit pause on this panic attack, go downstairs, and try not to rip into his skin listening to them talk about food and calories and why starving is stupid but they’re wrong because he’s only worth something when he’s thin.

Fuck his life.

…

Jack knows they’re all staring at him.

With his red eyes and the tears on his cheeks, how could they not? Lucas shot him a sympathetic smile when he came down, so he may be out of the woods temporarily but he’s definitely gonna get pulled aside later and that’s arguably worse.

“Alright, let’s get right to it,” Lucas says. “You guys know the drill. 1 to 10, how have things been?”

Frank shrugs. “4, I guess. It’s been a pretty good week. It’s still hard, but Gee usually sits with me and sketches until I’m done and it just helps… He’s not watching me eat, but he’s there to hold my hand if I need it.”

“9,” Awsten mumbles. Lucas waits for him to say more, but he doesn’t. He’s pointedly avoiding Jack’s gaze, understandably. Jack knows he crossed a line yesterday. What he said wasn’t bad, but Awsten was way too fragile and it was way too soon. He doesn’t know how to apologize. The kicked puppy look Awsten’s been sporting is punishment enough.

“6,” Brendon sighs. “I’ve been at Ry’s house a lot recently and sometimes I stay for lunch or dinner and his parents don’t know and it’s just…a lot. There’s this pressure to finish everything because I don’t wanna tell them and it’s too much sometimes.”

“5,” Michael says. “It hasn’t been total shit but it hasn’t been good either.” He drops his gaze to his feet. “I had a panic attack a couple days ago when Luke and I were on a date and he wanted to get ice cream…”

All eyes turn to Jack, and he doesn’t look up. He knows he’ll start crying if he does. This is too much. 

“Jack? You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, but you know this is a safe space. Everyone’s struggling with the same thing you are. You won’t be judged.”

He swallows. “Um, 9. It’s been bad.”

He wasn’t planning to say anything, but in the moment…it sucks, having to air your problems out like dirty laundry for everyone to hear. It sucks to tell people you’re not doing well. It sucks to reveal that things aren’t as good as they seem. They’re all uncomfortable doing it; they’re all in the same boat. It’s not fair to them if he doesn’t share after hearing all their numbers. 

Lucas gives him a reassuring smile and a quick nod of his head and Jack leans back in his seat, tilting his head back. His courage was acknowledged and that means a hell of a lot to him. 

“Awsten…same problems you talked about in the other session, or has something else happened?”

“Geoff and I broke up, I think,” Awsten says, blinking rapidly. “I dunno. I haven’t talked to him since he…” He trails off, a sob bubbling up his throat. 

“Shit.” Michael rises to his feet and makes his way over. He kneels in front of Awsten’s chair and says something in a soft voice, to which Awsten nods. Michael pulls him into a hug and rubs his back gently, before turning to Lucas. “Geoff thought he was cheating because he saw him and Alex cuddling, and then he called him desperate. They haven’t talked since.”

“Fuck,” Lucas sighs. “Are you okay, Awsten? You don’t have to be here if it’s too much…”

Jack whips his head up at that. Is he fucking serious? Awsten gets to skip? He’s not in a good place either, but he was forced to be here. It’s not fucking fair.

Lucas must’ve seen the anger in his eyes because he holds up both hands in surrender. “He’s crying too hard to even talk, Jack. This isn’t because I don’t think he needs to be here. He really does. But it’s not gonna do him good if he has a panic attack. Mike, can you take him upstairs real quick? And tell one of your moms what’s going on, I want someone keeping an eye on him.”

Michael’s practically supporting all of Awsten’s weight as he leads him out of the room. Jack knows he’s worse off, but that doesn’t lessen the frustration. He’d give anything to be in bed and not dealing with this bullshit.

He bites his lip, finally breaking the skin and tasting copper, enjoying the sharp sting as he tries to swallow the lump in his throat. He’s not going to cry. He’s gonna get through this, go upstairs, crawl into bed, and maybe take a knife to his skin because he’s fucking weak and he deserves it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something I've done in past stories on ff.net is give you guys a preview of the next chapter as an incentive to comment, and I think I'm gonna start doing it here too. So, next chapter, Alex learns a little more about Jack and his past, Kellin and Vic _finally_ talk, and Awsten confesses a dark secret he's been hanging onto for much too long. The more feedback I get from you guys, the quicker I'll post the chapter!
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings - mentions of eating disorders, self-harm, suicidal thoughts, depression, and severe homophobia.

Distraction is key. 

Something Alex’s learned in his short time here is that distraction, at mealtimes, is the key to avoiding panic attacks and near-purges. 

Distract Jack, Frank, Mikey, Brendon, and Awsten, get them talking, and they’ll eat without thinking too much about what they’re doing. It works every time and Alex is starting to get better at it. 

Jack isn’t here and that’s worrying him. Alex knows he had group with Lucas today. He hasn’t seen him since Jack pushed past him on the stairs earlier. Alex caught a glimpse of his face, the red eyes and tearstained cheeks, and he’s been worried ever since. 

“Guys, um, is Jack okay?” He lifts a forkful of pasta to his mouth and chews thoughtfully, looking at Luke. He’s Jack’s roommate, he’ll probably know the most.

“He’s in a shitty place,” Luke sighs. “That’s why he was so mean to Awsten yesterday. His eating disorder is giving him hell, so what Geoff did really pissed him off.”

“He’s always been quiet about his problems,” Pete says. “It sucks because we all wanna help him, but he doesn’t like talking about them. He bottles things up, represses things, and ends up having a breakdown when they get to be too much.”

“He takes on everyone else’s shit and pushes his to the side.”

“He’s like, the big brother,” Ashton explains. “He’s been here the longest out of all of us. He’s the closest to moms. He’s the one we go to if we needa hug or pep talk.”

“I’m kinda glad Luke doesn’t sleep in his bed,” Kellin adds. “The first couple days after everything with Vic…I slept there. Sometimes I crawled in with Jack. I dunno, his breathing helped me calm down and knowing someone was there, that I wasn’t alone, made things a helluva lot easier.”

“Are you okay?” Alex asks. “I’ve wanted to ask for a while, just didn’t feel like I could…m’still so new, wouldn’t blame everyone for not wanting to tell me what’s going on with them.”

Kellin shrugs. “Being in love with someone who doesn’t give a shit about you fuckin’ sucks, man. But I think I’m getting over him. He doesn’t care about me, why should I waste energy on him?”

“Because he’s the one. At the end of the day, he’s the person you wanna spend your life with and that’s never gonna change no matter how good the next guy is.” Alex follows Ashton’s gaze to the other end of the long table, where Calum is laughing over something Michael’s said, and then it clicks.

“Ash…” He wasn’t talking about Vic and Kellin. The confession and realization that Ashton’s in love with Calum is both shocking and heartbreaking to Alex. He never saw it coming, but now that he knows, the past few weeks make so much more sense.

Ashton and Calum are so close and now Alex knows it’s because Ashton is smitten, but Calum is oblivious. He has no idea and the sadness etched across Ashton’s face makes it clear how damaging that’s been. 

“It’s okay,” Ashton says softly. “I’m okay.”

Alex knows he’s not.

…

“Kells? Can I talk to you?”

Kellin swallows. His heart is hammering in his chest because that’s the one voice he hasn’t heard in a while and part of him is getting accustomed to that. Cutting Vic out seemed like an insurmountable task, but it’s been easier than he thought. 

It hurts. Being in love with someone who doesn’t feel the same way is the worst feeling in the world and he’s so tired. He’s tired of pining, tired of dreaming, tired of hoping that one day Vic will come to his senses and realize the mistake their breakup was. He’s tired of living his life waiting on a boy that clearly doesn’t care as much about him as he does them. He’s tired of wishing and hoping and dreaming and fantasizing so he’s done.

He’s done staying up until the ungodly hours of the morning contemplating relapse, done with the sinking feeling in his chest every time Vic mentions someone else, done letting his feelings fall to the mercy of a stupid fucking boy that doesn’t give a shit about him.

“I have nothing to say to you,” Kellin forces out. He’s trying so hard to keep his voice steady and keep his front strong because if Vic notices a falter he’ll play to it and Kellin will find himself back at square one again. Vic just has that effect on him and he refuses to get sucked in once more.

“Please. I miss you.”

“You miss me?” The anxiety is starting to evaporate into anger. What the fuck does he have to be so anxious about? Vic’s the asshole. He’s not worth getting anxious over. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me? You don’t miss me. You miss having a good conscience. Too fuckin’ bad. You fucked up, now you havta deal with it.”

“We weren’t together!” Vic holds his hands up in surrender. “Please, Kellin. Let me explain. Two minutes. Give me a chance. Please.”

“Two minutes,” he repeats. He follows Vic into the (surprisingly) empty family room, and they take seats on one of the couches. Kellin makes it a point to sit as far away from Vic as possible. The sadness on Vic’s face is oddly satisfying. He deserves to suffer. 

“I’m so sorry,” Vic breathes. “I didn’t…I didn’t know, Kells. Seriously. I didn’t. If I’d known I never would’ve been such a dick about people I was into. I thought things were just bad for you, I didn’t know I was the one causing it…”

“Why does that matter?” Kellin challenges. “You don’t feel the same way. You shouldn’t have to shut up about shit to spare my stupid feelings. You broke up with me for a reason, didn’t you?”

“I broke up with you because I didn’t want to trigger you.”

Kellin freezes. “What?”

“I’m a fuckin’ mess, Kells,” Vic admits. “My drug problem is that. A fuckin’ problem. But you…you were trying so hard to get better. You wanted to be clean. I didn’t. I couldn’t be with you. I couldn’t drag you down with me. I haven’t been clean for _months_ , Kells. And the drugs…they help me forget. Snorting cocaine, popping pills, fucking girls I don’t give a shit about…it helps me forget you and what we had because it hurts too much to remember. You made me the best version of myself, Kellin, but the way I was going…I was gonna make you the worst version of you…and I couldn’t do that to you.”

…

Alex can’t take this.

Awsten and Geoff haven’t spoken in a month, not since Geoff said that really shitty thing and Awsten, and it’s destroying them both. It’s awful to watch Geoff walk around the house in a constant daze, too scared to even speak in case he says something horrible again, but it’s even more awful to watch Awsten have panic attack after panic attack and relapse over and over and try to hold himself together when he’s hanging on by a thread.

He doesn’t know if there’s hope for them to get back together, but it’s clear that they’re worse apart. Geoff regrets what he said and Awsten is caught between wanting to forgive him and wanting to condemn him, stuck between a rock and a hard place because both involve sacrifice and both hurt and it’s a matter of choosing which will hurt less in the long run.

“Alex? Can we talk?”

Speak of the devil. Awsten’s standing in the doorway, tugging the sleeves of his sweater over his hands and biting his lip. The sweater seems to swallow him, hanging off his body and really highlighting the significant weight loss. It’s a sight for sore eyes.

Alex smiles, scooting over and patting the empty stretch of pillow. “What’s up? You okay?”

Awsten rolls his eyes. “You know the answer to that.”

“I’m worried about you,” Alex admits. “You look like hell. Don’t kill me for saying it, but…you looked so much happier when you were with Geoff. I know what he said is awful, but…you were at your happiest when you were with him.”

“I know,” Awsten replies. “I miss it. Being happy, y’know? But I just…there’s something he doesn’t know. Something no one here knows. I don’t talk about it. I’ve tried so hard to block it out because even thinking about it fucks me up, but I can’t forget it no matter what I do.”

“What is it?” He’s scared to know what Awsten’s been hiding. If he hasn’t told anyone it’s gotta be bad.

Awsten’s tense against him, stiff-bodied and shaking. He’s staring straight ahead, biting his lip. “I…I don’t have a good relationship with my parents. Like, at all. They…um, they’re really homophobic. They found out I was gay when they went through the search history on my computer, and they were so mad…” He trails off, a sob bubbling up his throat.

“Awsten, I-”

“They sent me to a conversion therapy camp.”

Alex’s blood runs cold. He feels like he’s been dunked in a tub of ice water. The cold feeling is spreading throughout his entire body. His stomach is in his throat and it hurts. “W-What?”

“They’re like, super Christian, and being gay is basically a death sentence,” Awsten says. “It…It was the worst experience of my entire life…”

“You don’t have to say anything else,” Alex assures him. Part of him is selfish and _doesn’t_ want to hear anymore, because he’s heard things about those camps and the idea that Awsten was put through that torture makes him sick to his stomach. 

“No, I…I can’t keep holding it in,” Awsten whispers. “I’m losing Geoff because I can’t talk about it. I need to tell him.”

“Why?” He’s trying to walk the line between wanting to pry and not wanting to know. It’s a very fine one. He’s so afraid to cross into unchartered territory. He’s never done something like this before.

“Because I’m a stupid clingy shit that needs constant love and affection and that’s problem if you don’t know why,” Awsten replies. “I’m crazy until you know why. I’m annoying until you know that we had little to no human contact. That they tried to shock the gay out of us. They’d show us gay porn and if anyone got a boner they’d shock them in the balls. And then they’d force us to watch straight porn and if we didn’t get off we were beaten.” Tears are running down his cheeks and his eyes are glassy. “I know I’m clingy. I know it’s a lot. But I need it. I…I can’t function without it because I’m back in that terrible place and the memories are too much…”

Alex pulls him into a hug. He holds on tight, squeezing Awsten to his chest and resting his chin on top of his head. “I’m so fucking sorry,” he murmurs. “I know that means absolute shit to you, but I just…that’s so awful, Awsten…you didn’t deserve any of it. Do…do moms know?”

Awsten hiccups. “I…it’s not in my file. I don’t talk about it. You’re the first person I’ve ever told…”

“I’m honored,” Alex replies. “That you trusted me enough to tell me something so huge. But you needa tell moms, Awsten. They’ll help you. They’ll get you the help you need.”

“No,” Awsten mumbles. “I can’t. Only Geoff. I just…I miss him so much. I need him. But he needs to know what he’s getting into. The mess he’s signing himself up for.”

“Geoff loves you,” Alex insists. He’s trying so hard to keep composed. One of them has to be strong right now and it’s definitely not gonna be Awsten. It’s just so fucking infuriating to think about. And the fact that Awsten genuinely believes that Geoff won’t love him or won’t want him after he knows is downright ridiculous. It’s not Awsten’s fault – those bastards at that fucking conversion therapy camp fucking destroyed him and it’s gonna take a lot to heal the scars.

“I’m not sure he will after this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's gonna get better, I promise. Things aren't gonna stay this way, but it makes the good times so much sweeter when you look back and realize how much shit they had to go through to get there. So, next chapter, Kellin is indecisive and conflicted, Awsten tells Geoff, Alex meets Jack's best friend, and later takes advantage of the empty bed in Jack's room...and gets even closer than that. It's already done, so it's up to you guys how quick you want it. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings - depression, suicidal thoughts, homophobia, and abuse.

Kellin doesn’t know how to feel.

He doesn’t know what to think. 

He’s spent so long believing _he_ was the problem, that Vic broke up with him because he wasn’t pretty enough or smart enough or talented enough. Never once did it cross his mind that Vic didn’t do it because of him.

He knew part of him would always be in love with Vic. You never really forget your first love. You never let go completely. He thought it’d be one of those things he’d just learn to live with. He’d eventually move on, find someone else, and learn to be happy with them. He didn’t think there was a chance of rekindling anything with Vic.

But now he knows.

Now he knows the truth and it’s paralyzing. 

None of the girls meant anything. None of the late nights, none of the drugs, none of the hookups…none of it meant anything. It was all an act to try and get over him, and damn, Vic’s a good fucking actor. 

He doesn’t know where to go from here. Part of him is screaming, desperate to get back with Vic and remember all the good times they had, but the other part of him is still so afraid things won’t work out again. He was destroyed after the break up. He can’t go through that again. He’s never hit a lower point but he knows he will if something tears them apart again.

Vic’s willing to give him time and while he’s grateful, more time to think and mull this over is going to stress him out even more. He needs to make a decision and he needs to do it before overthinking kills him.

There are so many pros and cons and he can’t stop weighing them. It’s a perfect balance. There’s nothing tipping the scale in one direction and he’s stuck. He could get back with Vic, risk the heartbreak again, but get genuine happiness and fulfillment and _love_ again, or he could turn Vic down and risk missing out on a future with the man he’s been in love with for years, but get security from heartbreak and the chance to learn how to be happy with himself.

Both options have equal benefits and sacrifices and he doesn’t know what to do.

He’s done getting high or drunk to run from his problems.

He needs to make a decision.

But which one is right?

…

“Are you _sure_ you don’t want me there?”

Awsten nods, forcing a smile. “Thanks, but I gotta do this on my own. And I dunno how comfortable Geoff would be with you in there anyway…”

“If he still thinks you were cheating…”

“I don’t think he does,” Awsten says quickly. “Just…this is hard enough as it is without having to worry about jealousy.”

“I’ll be right outside if you need me,” Alex replies, pulling him in for a quick last hug. 

Awsten swallows against the lump in his throat and knocks on Geoff and Vic’s door. 

“Come in!”

He turns the handle and steps inside, closing the door behind him. Just his luck, Vic and Geoff are there, and both pairs of eyes travel to him immediately. He squirms uncomfortably, biting his lip. 

“Um…Geoff, can we talk?” He shoots a pointed glance at Vic, hoping he’ll get the hint so he doesn’t have to ask him to kindly get the fuck out. This isn’t a story he’s comfortable sharing with just anyone.

“Yeah, of course,” Geoff says quickly, sliding off the bed and joining him at the door. “Vic, get out.”

Vic rolls his eyes. “Lock the door if you start doin’ it, _please_.” He grabs his guitar and a hoodie from the closet and lets himself out. 

Awsten waits for the door to shut behind him before he moves, sliding onto Geoff’s bed. Tears are pricking at his eyes, he’s so _scared_. He’s so scared of what Geoff’s gonna think, so scared of how he’s gonna see him after this, so fucking scared that his reaction isn’t gonna be positive which really fucks him up because he has no pieces left to pick up. He’s done. Shattered. If Geoff doesn’t take this well it’s over. 

“Aws, before you say anything, I just-”

Awsten shakes his head. “Just listen, okay? I have something to tell you and it’s really not easy for me to say…”

Geoff falls silent, just staring at him. Awsten takes a deep breath, lifting his head to meet Geoff’s eyes. “I know I’m clingy. And annoying. And according to you, desperate. But-”

“No!” Geoff cuts him off again, a wild look in his eyes. “No, no, no! I’m sorry I keep interrupting but you have to know you’re none of those things, Aws. I was angry. I didn’t mean it. I don’t think you’re clingy or annoying _or_ desperate. Especially not desperate. God, I’m so fuckin’ sorry I ever made you think I believed that, I-”

Awsten holds up a hand. “Geoff, it’s okay. I _am_ clingy. And you can’t lie, sometimes it _does_ get annoying. I…” He swallows. “I spent last summer in a conversion therapy camp.”

The mix of shock and horror on Geoff’s face mirrors Alex’s. He opens his mouth to interrupt once more, but Awsten plows on, “My parents are really religious and when they found out I was gay…they didn’t give me a choice. And that summer was the worst two months of my entire life.”

“They used shock therapy,” Awsten says. “Like, they made us watch gay porn and shocked us in the balls if we got off. And if we didn’t get off while watching straight porn they beat us. But that wasn’t even the worst part.” He takes another deep breath. “The worst part was the lack of human contact. If they could help it, they didn’t talk to us. We couldn’t talk to each other. We barely saw people. It was just us in tiny rooms with no windows. They gave us food through a tiny ass flap in the door. The solitary confinement was supposed to simulate our lives if we continued with this ‘sinful’ lifestyle. That’s why I’m so clingy. That’s why I’m so touchy. That camp…it destroyed me, Geoff. It’s been a year, and I’m still a complete fuckin’ mess. Moms don’t know about it because it’s not in my file. I don’t talk about it. I wish I could forget it but I can’t. And the truth is…I miss you, Geoff. I miss you so fucking much it hurts. But you don’t have to deal with my shit if it’s too much. You can walk away and I won’t hold it against you. I promise.”

He’s barely finished talking before Geoff is kissing him, long, yet soft and full of the passion they’ve always had. He’s missed it so much.

“I love you,” Geoff says. “I love you so fuckin’ much, and I am _never_ leaving you. I’m so glad you told me because now I can try to help, but this doesn’t make you damaged goods or some bullshit like that. You mean the world to me, Aws. I’m so sorry I haven’t made you felt like it the past few weeks, but that’s gonna change, I promise.”  
…

“Hey Alex, over here! There’s some people I want you to meet!”

Alex looks up and over to where Jack is. He’s another guy Alex’s never seen before. The weirdest part is that he’s carrying Jack bridal style. He’s really ripped; the tank top he’s wearing looks stretched out over his muscles. 

Alex joins them nervously. He’s gotten a lot better about socializing and people in general, but meeting someone knew is always terrifying. He’s not the best when it comes to first impressions. 

“This is Zack,” Jack says. “He’s put up with me for the last, I dunno, ten years? He’s the closest thing I have to a brother, well, except for everyone here. But I’ve known him longer.”

“Hey man.” Zack holds out a hand, surprising Alex even more. He must be strong, if he can shake hands while carrying someone. Either that, or Jack’s really light, which wouldn’t be totally out there considering the eating disorder. “Cool to finally meet ya. Jack’s told me a lot.”

“He- what?” Alex takes his hand shakily, looking over at Jack. “What’d you tell him?”

“That I’ve finally found someone with eyebrows like mine so he can stop givin’ me shit!”

Alex rolls his eyes. “Of all my redeeming qualities, you go for my shitty eyebrows?”

“Hey! We have the same eyebrows!” Jack’s voice is borderline shout. “And what redeeming qualities? Your inability to keep your hands to yourself? Your stupid jokes? And oh hell, don’t even get me started on how much you play that fuckin’ guitar.”

Alex bends at the waist, collapsing in a fit of laughter. All the nerves he had are gone. Jack is so good at that. His confidence is infectious and he makes Alex feel so comfortable.

He loves it. 

…

“Jack?”

Alex shifts his weight between both feet, standing in the doorway of Jack and Luke’s room. “I was wondering…can I sleep with you tonight?”

It’s weird, especially for him, the person who’s just begun to stop flinching at unexpected touch. But Jack is just…captivating in a way he can’t explain. The way everyone talks about him, like he’s the big brother, the one they all go to…Alex is starting to understand why. He wants to experience it for himself. 

He’s also heard that Jack gives great cuddles and he’s been in need of a good hug for a long time.

Jack grins at him and opens his arms. Alex makes his way over gingerly, slightly hesitant and unsure of how this is going to go. He crawls into Jack’s embrace and rests his head against Jack’s shoulder. “I really needed this. Thanks.”

“What’s goin’ on, Lex?” Jack asks gently. “How’re you doin’?”

“Good,” Alex mumbles. “I mean, that’s what m’supposed to say, right? I’m out of my parents’ house, I have friends, I have people who actually give a shit about me, but I’m…m’not happy, Jack… And I _want_ to be. I wanna be so fucking bad. But I’m not and I don’t know why and it’s so fuckin’ frustrating because I finally like my life. I like the way things are but they’re eventually gonna change and why the fuck can’t I just be happy when things are good?”

“Whoa.” Jack squeezes him tightly for a couple seconds. “Breathe. Relax. It’s okay. You’ve got depression, Lex. It doesn’t work like that. It’s a real fucking bitch and you’re not happy a lot of the time and it sucks, but you’re gonna be okay. This isn’t forever.”

Alex sighs. Tears are pricking at the corners of his eyes and he feels like such a fucking baby for crying but he’s so unbelievably frustrated. “I’m just…so tired of feeling like this.”

“I know,” Jack whispers. “I hate it. I hate that it exists and I hate that you havta go through it because it fucking sucks and it’s not fair and you definitely don’t deserve any of it. But life’s a fuckin’ shitshow and we’re just along for the ride, y’know? And we hope to anyone fuckin’ up there that it’ll get better and sometimes it will but other times it just…doesn’t. And that really sucks. But no matter what I’m gonna be here, okay? You got me.” He chuckles. “Honestly, the only reason Zack and I have been friends this long is because I won’t let him stop talking to me. Once we’re friends, we’re friends for life. I got ya and now you’re stuck with me.”

Alex gets it now. He understands why everyone looks up to Jack as a big brother, because he is. He’s the big brother that makes too many dick jokes and calls everyone out on their bullshit but is always willing to offer comfort and cuddles and love and reassurance.

Something’s just…different. The relationship Alex had with Tom and the one he has with Jack are so different, and not in the ‘different person different kinda relationship’ type of way. Jack doesn’t feel like a brother to him. He sees how everyone else views him that way, but Alex knows what it’s like to have a brother and things with Jack are…different.

“I dunno ‘bout you, but I’m fuckin’ wiped.”

Jack doesn’t loosen his grip at all as he flops down to the mattress, and Alex is pulled along with him, wincing as the blood rushes to his head. He curls under the covers with Jack and turns so his back is against Jack’s chest, snugging into the pillow. 

“Things are gonna be better tomorrow,” Jack murmurs, breath warm against his ear. “Promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Next chapter, Alex gets a visit from a very special someone, Vic and Kellin (finally) get their shit together, and things go...downhill, for Jack. The more feedback I get from you guys, the quicker I'll post it. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings - anxiety, drug abuse, suicidal thoughts, depression, self-harm, and anorexia.

“Mom?”

Jordan holds up a finger, continuing to type rapidly on her phone. Alex shifts his weight to his right foot and shoves his hands in his pockets, squirming uncomfortably. 

“Sorry about that.” Jordan slips her phone into her pocket and looks up at him. “What’s up, babe?”

“Can-Can my friend Rian come over?” Alex asks hesitantly. “Just for a couple hours, he won’t be here long, I promise, I just-”

“Whoa! Breathe, kid,” Jordan says, smiling at him. “Of course that’s fine! You don’t have to ask, just make sure you know when your sessions with Lucas are so he’s not here during those. The kids here have people over all the time. Zack’s like an honorary member of the family at this point.”

“You guys are really okay with all this?” It’s so weird to him. A complete open door policy for kids with pasts they’re not completely sure of? Unheard of. He expected so many more rules and a ton of restrictions, but the freedom has actually been so fucking refreshing. 

“Mama talked to you, right?” He nods. “We know what it’s like, to have depression and anxiety and self-harm and wish your life was over. And there are a lot of things that make mental illness easier to cope with, things mama and I didn’t have as kids. We wanted to give you guys what we didn’t have. We wanted to be parents we wished we had. We can’t change the fact that you guys are all mentally ill, but we can make things easier and we’ll do anything in our power to make that happen.”

Alex leans forward and hugs her quickly. He’s still not completely comfortable with the cheek-kissing and stuff he’s seen other kids do, but he’s getting there. He’s not used to the affection. It’s something he’s never had, and never wanted. He didn’t know it was a normal thing until he got here so it’s taking him time to get used to it. 

“Go on, text your friend,” Jordan urges him. “And tell him he can stay for dinner if he wants. It’s taco night.”

…

“Vic? Can we talk?”

Vic’s hand stops mid-strum. He looks up, heart starting to race. “Uh yeah, sure. What’s up?”

Kellin sits next to him, and Vic notes how he doesn’t try and scoot as far away as possible. It’s a good sign. Maybe Kellin doesn’t completely hate his guts after all. 

“Listen, I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said, and…I just don’t get why you didn’t talk to me,” Kellin says. “Like, when we were dating. Why didn’t you tell me you were getting bad again? I could’ve helped you…”

Vic sighs, setting his guitar down against the couch. “I don’t know, honestly. It was a really long time ago. I think I was ashamed. I was embarrassed that you could get better and I couldn’t. You were strong enough and I wasn’t. And I guess I just…didn’t want to get in the way of your own recovery? You were working hard enough to get better, you didn’t need to take on helping me get better too.”

“Vic, you know I wouldn’t have-”

Vic smiles sadly. “You would’ve, Kells. It’s what I love and hate about you. You’d do anything to help the people you love, even if it means sacrificing your own health. And you didn’t deserve to do that. Not for me.”

Kellin blows out a frustrated breath. “Why? Why don’t you think you deserve someone giving a shit about you?”

“Because I didn’t want to live, Kells,” Vic confesses. “I…you did drugs to let go. Be less anxious, live a little, right?” Kellin nods. “I wanted to destroy myself. I needed to get out of my head and I didn’t _care_ what it took. I didn’t care if I had to stick my arms with needles because I’d already cut them up worse. I didn’t care that being high wasn’t always fun. It got me out of my head and that was enough. I wanted to die, Kells. I was so suicidal when we were together. I didn’t…I couldn’t put that on you…”

“Do you…” Kellin’s voice catches in his throat. “Do you still feel that way? Like you wanna destroy yourself?”

Vic swallows. “Some days are better than others. But…I don’t wanna die anymore, if that’s anything.”

Kellin grabs his hand and squeezes. “That is so much more than you give yourself credit for. And Vic…I’m sorry I ever made you feel like you weren’t good enough. You didn’t deserve that.”

“It’s not your fault,” Vic promises. “That’s on me.”

Kellin scoots closer, and Vic wants to ask what he’s doing until he feels a soft pair of lips brush his cheek. “You’re not alone anymore. I’m here, and I’m gonna help you get through this. I promise.”

…

A weight crashes into his back and a pair of arms winds around his chest, squeezing tight. 

Alex doesn’t even have to turn around to know who it is. He relaxes into the hold, grinning. “Fuck Ri, I missed you so much.”

“I missed you more.” Rian lets him go long enough for him to whirl around, and then grabs him in a proper hug. Alex buries his face in the crook of Rian’s neck. Tears are spilling from his eyes.

Rian is his best friend, the person that kept him going for so long, the one glimmer of hope he had. Rian was the person who cleaned him up, bandaged cuts and iced bruises and let him stay over on nights Alex just _couldn’t_ go home. Rian’s parents were the ones who took him in, who took him to the hospital when things got particularly bad, who made up tons of excuses to keep CPS away. Rian was the one Alex would call at 3am, sobbing, begging for death, and he’d come over, no questions asked, and clean his cuts and lie with him until he fell asleep. Rian saved his life and Alex will never be able to repay him. 

They don’t let go of each other. It’s been two months too long. They end up on Alex’s bed, pressed together, Alex’s head pillowed on Rian’s chest with an arm around his waist. “So, how is it here?” Rian asks. He’s running his hand absentmindedly through Alex’s hair as he talks. “The lady who let me in seemed nice.”

Quinn’s not home, so it must’ve been Jordan. Alex smiles. “She’s amazing. She and her wife both are. And the kids here are…god, Ri, I have _friends_. I have _people_.”

“Thanks man.”

Alex rolls his eyes and shoves Rian’s shoulder. “You’re always gonna be my best friend, asshole. But it’s just been you for so long…now I have like, fourteen other friends. It’s so fuckin’ nice.”

“I’m glad. You deserve to be happy, Lex,” Rian murmurs. “I…I guess you don’t need me anymore…”

That is the most ridiculous statement he’s ever heard. He’s never going to stop needing Rian. The day he stops needing him will be the day humans stop needing oxygen. He’s gotten close with Ashton and Awsten and Jack, but none of them hold a candle to Rian. Rian is the person he feels the most comfortable around. He can tell him absolutely anything unashamedly. He knows what he needs before he needs it. He almost knows Alex better than he knows himself. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Alex mutters. “That’s such fuckin’ bullshit. I’ll always need you. No new friends are gonna change that. You saved my fuckin’ life, Ri. We’ll always have that.”

“We’ll still be friends when we’re 90, racing wheelchairs down the hall of the retirement home.”

“Damn right,” Alex replies. Rian falls silent, exhaling deeply. Alex shifts against his chest and closes his eyes. They used to do this all the time after school. Go back to Rian’s house and cuddle with Blink playing softly through the record player.

He’s missed it so much.

…

Jack has never seen Alex so happy.

They’re all sitting around the dinner table, and Alex is laughing at something his friend said, and he’s honestly never looked happier than in this moment.

He introduced them to Rian a few minutes ago, and although Jack doesn’t know him really at all, he likes him already. Anyone who can make Alex this happy is in his good books. The smile on his face is brilliant. They’re nudging each other and whispering and giggling and it’s the most fucking adorable thing.

“Jacko. Food. Let’s go, kiddo.” 

The voice startles him out of his thoughts and when he looks up, he realizes why. Everyone is finishing up and leaving the table. Even Awsten is just about done. He and Geoff made up, and it’s had a significant impact on him because his plate is almost empty and he’s tucked into Geoff’s chest, laughing at something he said as they both walk out of the room. 

He’s the only one left at the table, besides Quinn. She’s finished too, but a rule in the house is to never leave someone who’s struggling with an eating disorder at the table alone. They know all the tricks; hiding food in napkins or pockets, cutting it into tiny pieces and pushing it around…none of it works.

His plate is fairly full. He hasn’t touched much. There are two tacos, both stuffed with beef and beans and cheese and lettuce and tomatoes, and a small serving of Mexican rice. They smell amazing. The couple bites he’s had have been really good, but his mind is screaming at him. He’s already had more than what he allotted for himself. He can’t eat anymore.

“I’m not hungry,” he tries weakly. It’s not going to work, and he knows it as soon as he sees Quinn’s sad smile.

“You are, babe,” Quinn replies. “I can hear your stomach growling. Listen, you don’t havta finish all of it. But I need you to get at least one of those tacos down, okay? One taco and maybe half the rice.”

He feels sick. He’s so hungry but he can’t bring himself to eat. He can’t give this up. He can’t bite the bullet and force the food down so he can leave the table because he knows what’s gonna happen after and that’s gonna be so much worse. He doesn’t want to go through purging and cutting and his mind reprimanding him like he’s a naughty child. It’s too draining and he’s too tired and not eating is so much easier. 

“Mama,” he chokes out, shaking his head. “Mama, please. Please don’t make me. I can’t. Please.”

Quinn sighs. “Jack, you know you have to eat. I know you don’t feel good, but you gotta try.”

“I can’t…”

“You can,” Quinn replies firmly. “I believe in you. I’m so proud of you, Jack. You’re doing so well.”

“I don’t…I can’t…” It’s getting harder to breathe. He feels like the walls are closing in. Everything feels tighter, hotter. His chest hurts and his head is spinning. 

Quinn’s talking to him but he can’t focus on her. He can’t understand anything she’s saying. He’s so scared. He doesn’t know what’s happening to him. All he knows is he can’t breathe. His throat is closing up and he’s starting to feel dizzy. 

He’s so tired. Black spots are clouding his already blurry vision and he wants it to stop. The pain in his chest is getting worse and he can’t see straight.

And then everything goes black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Next chapter, the aftermath of this, including some Frerard, and Alex gets a bit of a shock when Zack and Rian are in the same room... You guys know what to do if you want it quicker. The chapter after it is done too, so it's up to you. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings - eating disorders, depression, and anxiety.

“What the _hell_ happened?”

“Fuck, is he okay?”

“Did he pass out?”

“He’s just unconscious, right?”

“Guys, stop,” Jordan said, holding up a hand. “Let mama bring him up to his room. We’ll talk in a few minutes, okay?”

“He’s fine,” Quinn assures them, shifting Jack’s limp body in her arms. “He fainted. He’ll wake up soon, everything is gonna be fine, I promise.”

She makes her way up the stairs and carries Jack into his room, lying him down on the bed. A pair of arms wrap around her waist and Jordan rests her head in the crook of her neck.

“Fuck, Jor,” Quinn sighs, shaking her head. She grabs one of Jordan’s hands and squeezes. “What are we gonna do?”

“Did he eat anything?”

“Two bites of taco,” Quinn replies. “He’s getting worse…I’m so worried about him…”

“I’ll call Lucas,” Jordan offers. “Maybe an individual session will help…”

“It’s not working,” Quinn mutters. “No matter what we say to him, no matter whether he’s hungry or not, he still sees himself as fat. There’s nothing we can do to change his perception. I don’t…god, Jor…” She trails off, tears burning at the corners of her eyes.

Jack’s been there the longest of all the kids. She remembers when he first came to them, an abandoned baby left on the side of the road by his mother. They’ve raised him. Quinn feels like his mother. She and Jordan are the only parents he’s ever had. 

Raising him from birth means they saw him descend into his eating disorder, and it’s the most heartbreaking thing Quinn’s ever experienced. They saw him go from overly confident, goofy, riot child to scared teenager, counting calories and pinching skin and forcing himself to starve to fit some mold that doesn’t even exist.

Jack wasn’t consistently in the group home. He was put through a number of foster homes as a younger child, each one worse than the last. They heard the stories. Abuse, neglect, and an overall hostile presence only added to Jack’s scrutiny of himself. He was starved at some of the homes, told he didn’t need food until he internalized it. It was when he turned thirteen that he decided he didn’t want to go to any more foster homes. He wanted to stay in the group home until he aged out of it and they fought so hard to get the state to grant him that. 

“We’ll call Lucas,” Jordan says gently. “And maybe he can even talk to Raven? She’ll get it. We’ll get him through this, love. I promise.”

“He doesn’t deserve this,” Quinn says. She pulls away from Jordan and sits on the edge of Jack’s bed, brushing his fringe out of his eyes. He’s so thin. How does he not see it? He looks so emaciated, how does he think he’s fat?

It’s just so heartbreaking. This is her little boy. The boy she raised from infancy to teenager. He’s been through so much and his life has broken him and its physical effects are so devastating. Too many people have hurt him, he’s used to hurt, it’s no surprise that he turned to hurting himself, but he’s going too far and she’s terrified she might lose him.

“Mama?”

“Oh Jack,” Quinn breathes, as he blinks rapidly, sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “Oh sweetheart, thank god.”

She pulls him into her arms and exhales a sigh of relief. “Don’t you dare do that to me again, kid.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack mumbles against her shirt. “I tried so hard…”

“I know you did.” Quinn rubs his back as his tears begin to soak into her shirt. “I know. And we’re gonna help you, I promise. You’re gonna be okay.”

…

“Hey, there you are.”

Frank breathes out a heavy sigh. He closes the door behind him and crosses the room to join Gerard on his bed. He has his sketchbook open on his knees and one earbud in. Frank tucks himself into Gerard’s side and rests his head in the crook of his neck. Gerard’s body heat is calming, wrapping around him like a warm blanket.

“Hey Frank.” Pete smiles at him from the other side of the room. He’s scribbling in a notebook he has precariously balanced on Patrick’s chest, as he sleeps against him. “Any word on Jack?”

“He’s gonna be fine,” Frank says. “He passed out because of a panic attack.”

“Brought on by him being so scared to eat,” Gerard adds. “It’s fuckin’ scary, Frankie. Especially because you’re in the same place.”

“I am _not_ in the same place!” Frank replies indignantly. “I’ve been eating! You’ve _seen_ me eat!”

“Whoa, hang on.” Gerard holds his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just…you both have anorexia, and I _know_ it affects everyone differently, don’t yell at me, but it’s just…scary, Frank. Because even though you’re not there now, you were at one point. You were so scared to eat you were havin’ panic attacks and passin’ out left and fuckin’ right.”

Frank sighs, turning his head to kiss Gerard’s cheek. “I know. But I’m a lot better now…”

“I’m worried about him,” Pete cuts in. “He’s gettin’ worse. Moms are worried.”

“He has to wanna get better.” Frank bites his lip. “We can force food down his throat all we want, but nothing’s gonna change if he doesn’t realize he has a problem and accept that he needs help.”

“How do we get him to see it, though? It’s been years. He’s not gettin’ it. What worked for you, Frank?”

Frank shrugs. “Again, different for everyone. What worked for me might not work for him.”

Gerard flips back a few pages in his sketchbook and reaches over to hand it to Pete. “I drew this. I drew him and showed it to him and then it clicked.”

Frank doesn’t have to look at the drawing. He has a clear picture in his head, he’s seen it enough times to memorize every pencil mark. Gerard drew a picture of him standing in front of a mirror, looking at what he thought was his reflection. The reflection in the mirror was the way he saw himself, huge, fat, a fucking pig, but his actual figure was skeletal, emaciated. The contrast was staggering.

That’s when he realized he had a problem and vowed to change.

He hasn’t looked back since.

…

Alex is freaking out.

Jack _fainted_. 

He watched Quinn carry his limp body upstairs, and it was horrifying. 

“I talked to my parents,” Rian says, startling him out of his mini panic attack. “And they said as long as it’s okay with Jordan and Quinn, I can stay tonight. I’m here, Lex. Whatever you need.”

“He’s awake,” Jordan calls from the top of the stairs. “He’s awake and doing fine, you guys don’t have to worry. I know you wanna see him, but let’s try not to overwhelm him, alright? A couple at a time.”

“Did someone call Zack?”

Jordan nods. “I just did. He’s on his way.”

“Zack?”

“Rian?”

“Holy fucking shit.”

Alex stares from Zack, who’s standing in the foyer, to Rian, who’s looking at him with the biggest mix of confusion and adoration he’s ever seen. 

“Would someone like to tell me what the fuck is going on here?” He asks. “I’m so fuckin’ confused.”

Rian pushes off the stairwell and sprints down the stairs, meeting Zack at the bottom and dragging him into a sloppy kiss and then a tight hug. Alex watches in utter shock. He’s so confused. How the hell do they know each other? How did he not know Rian was seeing someone?

“Um…” 

Rian and Zack make their way upstairs, talking in hushed voices, until they’re standing right in front of Alex, hands clasped together, no space between their bodies. 

“Can we go somewhere more private?” Rian asks, looking pointedly at everyone else, all staring at them with curious, questioning eyes. 

Alex nods. “Let’s go to my room. But you better have a good fuckin’ explanation for this.”

Ashton’s in the room when they walk in, and Alex swears he’s never loved him more than in this moment because he lifts his head, surveys the situation, and swiftly gathers up his laptop, headphones, and the notebook he was writing in, and bids them goodbye with a soft smile.

Alex notices immediately how Rian curls up and into Zack’s body, resting his head in the crook of Zack’s shoulder with an arm around his waist. Zack is smiling, a look of pure love on his face as he presses a messy kiss to the top of Rian’s head. “We’re dating,” Rian offers with a giggle. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you…I wasn’t sure how to get in contact with you after…” He trails off, looking into Alex’s eyes. “I’m so sorry, Lex. You know you would’ve been the first person I told if things were different.”

He does. He hasn’t been able to get into contact with Rian for the two months he’s been here, partly due to not having a phone after his father smashed his old one (Jordan soon fixed that problem and he’s now the owner of a shiny new iPhone 7), and partly due to his anxiety over whether Rian still wanted him in his life. It’s his fault they didn’t talk so he can’t be angry about not being told.

“And you had no idea Zack was Jack’s best friend?”

“I didn’t know Ri was yours,” Zack speaks up. “Jack’s been talking about an Alex, and Rian’s been talking about an Alex, but it never really clicked in my head that they were the same person.”

Alex directs his next question to Rian. “And he…he’s good to you? Treats you right and all that?”

A flush comes over Rian’s cheeks and he turns his gaze to the floor. “Lex, why?”

“You know why.”

“He’s amazing,” Rian says. “I…I was a mess after you left. You were my only friend and I was just so lonely and I really needed someone, and Zack was…Zack was perfect. He got me through it. He makes me happy, Lex. Really happy.”

“God, get a room.”

“Jack!”

“What the hell are you _doing_?”

“Moms told me what was goin’ on,” Jack says, smiling sheepishly at them. “I didn’t wanna miss it.” Zack pulls away from Rian and crosses the room in a couple strides, dragging Jack into a hug that looks almost crushing. Alex winces. That can’t feel good for Jack. Zack is so much stronger than him.

“Move your ass,” Jack orders Alex, dropping down on the bed next to him. He curls into Alex’s side and Alex wraps an arm around his shoulders. 

“You should be resting,” Alex says quietly. Jordan told them he fainted because of a panic attack, not lack of food, but Alex knows the starvation didn’t help. “Do moms know you’re here?”

Jack shrugs. “They said as long as I don’t overexert myself I’m okay. This is still restin’. I’ll probably fall asleep on you.”

“As long as you rest,” Alex relents. 

“You guys are so fuckin’ cute.” Jack’s clearly done talking about himself. Alex nudges him and he doesn’t acknowledge it. “How long has it been?”

“Almost two months,” Rian replies. 

“Are you _sure_ you’re okay, Jacky?” Zack asks. “You still look really pale. Maybe Alex’s right, you should go back to bed…”

“I’m fine,” Jack says tightly. His body stiffens and Alex picks up on it immediately. “Now Rian, you were saying…so, how’d he ask you? Or did you ask him, because christ, he’s shy as shit.”

“Jack!”

Zack rolls his eyes and Rian grins, launching into the story. Alex isn’t paying much attention. Jack feels so…bony. He can feel the curvature of his spine and trace his ribs through the sweatshirt he’s wearing.

He’s underestimated how bad things were because Jack doesn’t talk about it, but the physical effects speak for themselves.

Jack is dying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...Jack's okay for now, but in the long run? We'll have to see. ;) Next chapter, Vic learns the true horror of what happened to Kellin right after their breakup, a bit of angsty Jalex, and Ashton gets the courage to make a move...but it doesn't end as well as he hopes. You guys know what to do. The chapter after it's already written too, if that's anymore incentive.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings - drug abuse, suicidal thoughts, depression, self-harm, and anxiety.

“Hey, Cal?” 

Ashton plops down on the couch next to Calum, arm instinctively sliding around Calum’s neck. Calum smiles, shifting so he’s leaning against Ashton with his head on his shoulder. “What’s up?”

“D’ya maybe wanna sleep in my room tonight?” Ashton asks hesitantly. “It’s been two days and Alex is still glued to Jack’s side. He’s sleeping in his room again tonight.”

“Aw, is someone lonely?” Calum coos, looking up from his phone long enough to make those damn puppy eyes at him. 

Ashton glares at him, nudging his shoulder. “Dick.”

Calum rolls his eyes. “Sure, mate. Anything to get me away from the damn love fest.”

Ashton laughs. “Are they really that bad?”

Calum’s eyes are wide when he answers. “Worse. So much fuckin’ worse.”

…

“Are the rumors true?”

“Alert the media!”

“You guys better not fuck this up again.”

Vic grins, tightening his grip on Kellin’s hand as they slide into their seats at the dinner table. They haven’t formally discussed getting back together, but the handholding and cheek-kissing and cuddling doesn’t signify anything else. 

He never thought he’d be this happy without drugs. He’s used to the feeling, but the euphoria he gets when he snorts cocaine or shoots heroin is the same feeling he gets when he’s with Kellin. 

He doesn’t need drugs to be happy.

“Vic, Kellin, we gotta talk after dinner,” Jordan says. Vic nods, dismissing it immediately. He expected that. Jordan and Quinn like to know what’s going on in their lives, any big changes, that sort of thing. They check in a lot, especially after finding out about the sneaking out and the drugs. It was annoying at first, but they’re just being parents, and that’s more than Vic can say for his own parents.

“You guys are okay now, right?” Awsten asks, stabbing the tiniest piece of chicken with his fork and bringing it to his mouth ever so slowly. 

Kellin smiles. “We’re getting there. Nowhere close to perfect, but getting there.”

“We’re really happy for you guys.” Ashton shoots them a grin and the rest of the table murmurs their agreement. “You deserve it.”

Dinner’s over quickly, for the ones who don’t deal with crippling eating disorders. Like always, Frank, Awsten, Jack, and Mikey are left at the table, meaning Gerard, Geoff, Luke, and surprisingly, Alex, are there with them. Brendon’s eating at Ryan’s house, no surprise. It’s obvious something is blossoming between Jack and Alex, but no one’s said anything yet. It’s a delicate, fragile bubble they’ve created for themselves, commenting on it would pop it. 

Vic pulls Kellin against him, and his laugh is fucking music. It’s so pretty. Vic’s missed it so much. He kisses Kellin’s hair, arm slung around his waist as they walk over to the family room where Jordan’s waiting.

“Sit down,” Jordan orders them. “Listen…things have been flying around here, and I have to ask, are you two back together?”

Vic shrugs. “We haven’t talked about it, but…” He glances at Kellin, sees his nod and the smile on his face. “Yeah, we are.”

Jordan sighs. “You remember what happened when you guys broke up last year, right?”

Barely. Those few weeks are a blur of drugs and alcohol and one night stands. He was willing to do anything to get out of his head, anything to keep from being in reality because reality was missing Kellin and he couldn’t do it anymore.

“It’s not like that,” Kellin explains. “We talked about things. We’re okay now.”

“I believe you,” Jordan replies. “But you gotta remember, you especially, Kellin, how much of a mess you were last time. I’m in charge of your guys’ health and making sure everything’s okay up there, and Kellin…after you guys broke up…I’ve never seen someone so suicidal. Quinn and I, we encourage relationships because we see you guys all happy and it’s so good for your recovery, but…you can understand why we have our doubts about this.”

“You didn’t…you didn’t tell me…” Vic says, staring at Kellin. He had no idea how bad things were after the break up because he tried not to be home as much as he could. Every chance he had to go out, he took, not knowing or caring what was going on at home. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“It’s over,” Kellin says tightly. “It’s done. There’s nothing we can do to change it, why bring it up and make you feel guilty? I’m fine, Vic.”

“You weren’t, back then…”

Kellin turns his head and pecks his lips. “I’m okay. I’m a lot better. And we’re never breaking up again, so that’s a thing of the past.”

“I’d be a real bitch if I said you guys couldn’t date,” Jordan continues. “So just…be careful, okay? Talk. Communication is important. Don’t sit on your feelings. That’s the worst thing you can do.”

“We know.”

Jordan smiles. “And for the record, I really am happy you guys are back together. I was rootin’ for you all along.”

…

“Okay I know you two just got back together and all, but seriously. Get a fuckin’ room.”

“Shut the fuck up Barakat, we’ve got a lotta lost time to make up for,” Geoff mutters. He turns and practically jumps on Awsten, attacking his face with kisses that elicit peals of laughter. Jack wants to be angry, but the smile on Awsten’s face isn’t worth that. He’s had such a hard time the past couple months and he deserves to be happy, even if it is nauseating to watch. 

“They get a free pass to be disgusting,” Kellin says. “And so do me and Vic. We deserve this, fuckers, so shut up about it.”

“I did not sign up for this.”

“No one gives a shit.”

“Lex and I are like, the only ones not dating anyone,” Jack retorts. “Cal and Ash are basically together at this point.”

“Where _are_ they anyways? They disappeared after dinner…”

“Being gross shits in the privacy of Ash’s room, unlike you assholes.”

“Alright guys, mama and I are turning in for the night,” Jordan says. Her lipstick is slightly smudged and her hair is messed up. Jack rolls his eyes. They could at least _try_ to be subtle. “Don’t stay up too late. And remember, tomorrow’s self-harm, so Alex, Frank, Gerard, Vic, Awsten, Michael, and Ashton, don’t make plans for the afternoon.” She bids them goodnight with a quick wave and disappears into her bedroom.

Jack pulls Alex closer and laces their fingers together. He draws Alex’s right sleeve up slightly, staring down at the slashed skin. His stomach hurts. His chest does too. The thought of Alex taking a blade to his skin is sickening.

He’s done it a few times, but Jordan and Quinn don’t know so he’s not in therapy for it. They’re never going to find out. What breaks him is the fact that he _knows_. He knows how bad you have to get to rip into your skin, he knows the feeling of wanting to tear flesh and see red and only then be able to calm down. 

The fact that Alex’s felt that makes him sick. 

“Jack,” Alex whispers shakily, pulling his arm away. “Please.”

Jack forces a smile, kissing the crown of Alex’s head and pulling him closer. He knows it won’t help. You can’t cuddle away a self-harm addiction. Alex is hurting inside and he won’t stop hurting himself until that goes away.

It just sucks. It sucks that the world has done this to him, sucks that the people who were supposed to love him unconditionally didn’t, sucks that he’s been hurt bad enough that he feels like he deserves to hurt himself.

He doesn’t deserve it.

…

Ashton is cursing himself.

What the hell is wrong with him? Why is he so stupid? How in his right mind did he think cuddling with Calum would lessen any desire he has to jump his bones and kiss him like there’s no damn tomorrow?

It’s so hard to resist. They’re pressed against each other in his tiny bed, Calum’s head resting on his shoulder and arm slung around his waist. He’s so tempted. So fucking tempted to turn his head and kiss those soft, plump lips, and imagining it isn’t making the urge any lesser.

He did this to himself. Part of him wanted it. Part of him wanted to know what it would feel like to be in a relationship with Calum, to be with him so intimately, in such close proximity, but that part of him is selfish because he’s using Calum and he knows it but he’s also breaking his own heart because Calum doesn’t see this as anymore than platonic.

“Hm…Ash, whaddya wanna listen to?” Calum asks sleepily, scrolling through his Spotify playlists. “Blink, Foo Fighters, Nirvana, Third Eye Blind?”

“Blink, I guess?” He answers quickly, albeit shakily. He doesn’t want Calum to think he’s been staring at him like a creepy stalker for the past couple minutes.

When the first chords of the song start to play, Ashton freezes.

First Date.

Of course.

Just his fucking luck.

“Oh, I love this song,” Calum says softly, turning up the volume and setting his phone on Ashton’s nightstand.

 _When you smile, I melt inside. I’m not worthy for a minute of your time. I really wish it was me and only you, I’m jealous of everybody in the room_ …

Ashton doesn’t think. He doesn’t stop to mull over what he’s about to do, doesn’t give it a second thought, and suddenly he’s kissing Calum, fulfilling every desire he’s had in the past few months.

Reality strikes a minute later, and he rips himself away harshly, staring into Calum’s shocked eyes with a growing pit in his stomach.

What the fuck did he just do?

“Ash, I-”

He doesn’t wait for Calum to finish, doesn’t wait for the inevitable rejection. He leaps up in a tangle of blankets and scrabbles out of the bed, and then he’s off.

He finds himself in the bathroom, back against the door, breathing hard. His heart is racing.

 _What the fuck did he just do_?

…

Ashton doesn’t come back.

Calum lays awake, trying to make sense of what the fuck just happened. He doesn’t ever get to sleep, too wired, taken by his thoughts. He’s so confused. 

Why did Ashton kiss him? He didn’t even know Ashton was gay. He’s never talked about liking guys. He’s never made his sexuality clear so Calum’s never known. Goddamn, if he’d known, he would’ve done something a lot sooner. 

He would’ve made the first move.

If only he’d just fuckin’ _known_. 

He’s been in love with Ashton since he first laid eyes on him. It was one of those sappy, cliché, love at first sight moments, but he couldn’t help it. 

Ashton is gorgeous.

Beautiful curls, toned body, tanned skin, and god, that smile…that laugh…they’re what Calum imagines on bad days. He remembers Ashton’s laugh, glad he’s memorized the sound, and imagines his bright smile and even the darkest day gets that much brighter.

It’s impossible not to fall in love with him.

Kissing him…the moment Calum had been dreaming about for months had finally become a reality, and it was so much better than he ever could’ve pictured it. He didn’t want it to end.

But the look on Ashton’s face, the terror, the pain…he’ll never forget it. It was heartbreaking. Ashton looked so scared. Calum rarely sees that in him and he never wants to again. It was horrible.

The door bangs open and Calum’s alert, expecting it to be Ashton, but Michael is standing there, looking unnaturally frantic. 

Something’s wrong.

“Calum? Cal, have you seen Ash?”

“Not since…” He trails off, shaking his head. “No, not for hours. Why? What’s going on?”

“We’ve looked everywhere, turned the entire house upside down. He’s gone.”

“Gone? What the hell do you mean, gone?”

“He ran away.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Next chapter, aftermath of this, which'll give you guys a little insight to Alex's past and what he's been through, and another therapy session that subsequently ends badly for Alex. It's a pretty telling chapter. You guys know what to do if you want it quick. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavy trigger warning for self-harm in this chapter, along with depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts, and abuse.

“This is all my fault.”

“No, it’s mine.”

“I’m his best friend.”

“I’m his fuckin’ roommate.”

“Guys, stop. Seriously.” Quinn shoots them all a glare. “This blame game isn’t helping anyone. Mom’s out looking for him now. All we can do is pray she finds him, because it’s too early to call the cops.”

“The fuck do you mean, too early? Isn’t it their fucking _job_ to find missing people?”

Missing people.

Alex’s stomach constricts as the words keep repeating in his head. 

Missingpeoplemissingpeoplemissingpeople.

Ashton is a missing person.

“Hey, you gotta breathe, okay? You can’t have a panic attack right now.” Jack’s breath is warm against his ear. “You’re okay. Everything’s okay.”

“It’s not though,” Alex shoots back. The lump in his throat is building. The tears are coming, no matter how hard he tries to stop them. He’s talking through a sob, trying to breath through the wall of emotion building in his chest. “Nothing’s okay. He’s my _roommate_ , Jack. My fucking roommate. I’m supposed to be lookin’ out for him.”

“You’re right, you’re his roommate, and you guys should look out for each other, but you’re not his keeper, Lex,” Jack replies. “It’s not your job to know where he is at all times. It’s not your job to take care of him. He’s old enough to do that himself.”

“I should’ve slept in my room,” Alex whispers, and that breaks the barrier. The tears come, fast and furious, pouring down his cheeks. His chest hurts and his head is aching too. He wants to wake up. He wants this nightmare to be just that – a nightmare he can wake up from. Ashton’s safe. He isn’t partially responsible for his disappearance.

It’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back, the tip of the iceberg, the one thing to go wrong that sends his bottled up emotions flying. He knew putting everything into a little box at the back of his mind wouldn’t bode well in the long run, but he wasn’t interested in the future at the time. 

He stands, dizzy and unsteady on his feet, and turns, ignoring Jack’s calls for him. He can’t be here right now. It’s too much. 

He can’t stomach going into his room. All it is is a reminder of his failures, his wrongdoings, the things he’s fucked up. 

_Ashton would be here if you weren’t so selfish_.

He locks the bathroom door and slides down with his back against it, bringing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

The blade is buried in his skin before he even knows what’s happening. It’s his default. The only coping mechanism he knows. It’s instinct, at this point.

He doesn’t feel guilty. He knows Jack would be disappointed but he doesn’t care. It’s his fault Ashton’s gone and he deserves this. He deserves to hurt, he deserves the pain. 

_Oh Alexander, you’ve been such a bad boy._

_You have to learn, sweetheart._

_Maybe I’ll give you fifteen today. That’ll teach you to be a fucking faggot._

_Of all the sons we could’ve had, we had to get stuck with this disappointment. Oh Peter, is he even worth it anymore? He’s only caused us misery_.

The words run through his head like a mantra as he reopens every healing cut on his arm. The pain is blinding and the blood is coming fast, a crimson wave coating his hands and jeans and forming puddles on the floor.

He drinks it in, lets himself feel everything, absorbs every last bit. He deserves to hurt. It’s been good for too long. 

_Boys like you don’t deserve nice things, Alexander. It’ll do you good to remember that._

_Boys like you don’t deserve nice things_.

…

Alex’s sleeves are bloody.

Awsten sees it immediately. Grey hides nothing. The sleeves of his hoodie are stained dark red. He has an idea of how bad the cuts must be to have bled that much and it scares him. Alex ran off and locked himself in the bathroom but they decided not to go after him because they thought he needed some space to digest what happened.

Clearly they were wrong and Awsten’s kicking himself for not knowing better. He’s a cutter too. He should’ve known what Alex would do if they left him alone.

He sits down next to Alex, noticing immediately how badly he flinches. He’s avoiding all eye contact, staring down at the floor. His face is swollen from crying and his hair is sticking up all over the place from pulling on it.

“Listen, I know you guys are all shaken up from what happened,” Lucas says. “And I’m not gonna give you some bullshit on how it’s gonna be okay, because quite frankly, I don’t know if it is. What I am gonna do is change things up a bit. This is supposed to be about self-harm, but I asked Quinn to have all of you come down here so we can all talk, as a group, about anything. Anything you’re struggling with, now’s the time to put it out there.”

“I’m fuckin’ pissed,” Calum growls. “I should be out there with mom, lookin’ for him. It’s more important than this goddamn therapy session.”

“You’re not here because your moms think you need it,” Lucas says. “Ashton ran because of what happened between you two. They just think if you were there with Jordan he’d be reluctant to come back. They’re trying to do what’s best, okay?”

Calum shakes his head. “If he’d just _stayed_ …didn’t even gimme a chance to kiss back…”

“He kissed you?” Luke’s head snaps up. “About fuckin’ time.”

“What?”

“How have you not realized it man?” Frank asks. “The kid’s like, hardcore in love with you.”

“And he’s not even trying to be subtle about it,” Kellin points out. “He’s worse than I was with Vic.” The corners of Vic’s mouth turn up at that, and he turns to press a kiss to the side of Kellin’s head.

“Cal, I love ya, but you’re the biggest fuckin’ moron on the planet,” Michael mutters. “What do you think he was tryna do? If he wanted company you would’ve slept in Alex’s bed. You were supposed to pick up on his hints and the fact that you didn’t made him think you don’t like him.”

“I do though! I thought he was straight!”

“ _None_ of us are straight, the fuck did you think that for?”

Alex is getting more and more upset. Awsten can see tears in his eyes. He’s pale and shaky and Awsten hopes to god he doesn’t have a panic attack because that would definitely call attention to his cuts and Awsten knows from experience that that would make his entire world collapse.

“I’ve been tryna keep my distance,” Calum sighs. “Because I thought he was straight and I was tryna get over him. I didn’t know he liked me, I swear.”

“I did the same thing with Kells,” Vic mutters. “You close off the thought because you think it could never happen and you just…don’t see it. It isn’t Calum’s fault.”

“It’s _no one’s_ fault.”

“It’s mine.” Alex’s words are punctuated by a choked sob. “I should’ve been there.”

“Alex-”

“Don’t do that to yourself kiddo,” Lucas says gently. “Don’t take on all the blame. It’s gonna destroy you. This wasn’t your fault. Ashton got scared and made the choice to run. That’s not on you.”

“So you’re saying it’s his fault?”

“It’s no one’s fault,” Lucas replies. “And blaming yourselves won’t bring him back any sooner.”

“Hey whoa, is that…blood?” Awsten winces at Brendon’s observation. All eyes turn to Alex’s sleeves.

“Alex, did you relapse?”

“That’s a lotta blood, holy shit…”

“Fuck Lex, what did you _do_?”

The last one is Jack and he looks absolutely wrecked at the realization. He reaches for Alex, but Alex shakes his head and twists away, staggering to his feet.

“I deserved it.”

…

“Again, Lex?”

Alex freezes at the voice. Sitting on his bed with a first-aid kit beside him, is Rian. His gaze is locked on his bloody sleeves. Alex sees the disappointment in his eyes and that hurts more than anything he could’ve done to himself. But maybe he deserves that. Disappointing his best friend is the worst punishment of all.

“What are you _doing_ here?”

“Jack called me. Must’ve got my number from Zack. He said you were in trouble, so here I am.”

“It’s not your job to save me anymore,” Alex mumbles sullenly. 

He’s pulled into a tight hug, so hard that he can barely breathe. “It’ll _always_ be my job to save you, dickhead. You’re my best friend.”

“I’m not your fuckin’ damsel in distress anymore!” Alex snaps, wrenching his body away. “I’m out of there. Things are different now.”

“So why are you still cutting yourself?” Rian shoots back. “You’re not better, Lex. You may be outta that house but what happened there’s still fucking you up. And it’s not gonna get better if you don’t talk about it.”

“What the hell do you know?” Alex growls. “You didn’t live it. You don’t get to tell me what I do and don’t need.”

“I know how many cuts I cleaned up,” Rian snaps. “How many bruises I iced. How many _broken ribs_ I wrapped. I know how many times they hurt you bad enough to need a hospital but you wouldn’t go. I know how many nights I stayed up and woke you every hour hoping your concussion wasn’t something more serious since I couldn’t force you to a fucking hospital.” He softens his voice. “And I know that a lifetime of abuse means you think you should be punished for things you didn’t even do wrong. I know you think you deserve the pain of every cut under those sleeves, but Lex, you don’t.”

Tears are running down Alex’s cheeks because honestly what the fuck did he do right to deserve a best friend as amazing as Rian? He doesn’t know any other person that’d put up with him treating them like shit and still be as reassuring and encouraging as ever. 

“Can I see?” Rian asks softly. “I know you didn’t clean them right.”

Rian really does know him better than he knows himself. He knows him well enough to not flinch at the damage Alex’s done to his skin. He knows how to clean cuts and prevent infection and he knows to wrap Alex’s entire forearm in bandages to prevent temptation. 

When he finishes Rian pulls him back into his arms and over to his bed. He ends up pressed against Rian’s chest with his face buried in his shirt. They’ve done this so many times that Rian doesn’t even flinch when his tears start coming, even though his shirt is slowly dampening. He just rubs Alex’s back and lets him cry. 

Alex has felt like a burden to Rian for so long, but if he thinks so, Rian has never let it show. He comforts like it’s the first time, with soft touches and assurances that he’ll never leave and promises that this won’t last forever.

Alex doesn’t believe a word, but the sentiment is enough to calm him down long enough for him to fall into a fitful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? I know the chapter was a little heavy and didn't answer the begging question you all have, but at least you got some insight into Alex's past, right? I can promise next chapter does reveal Ashton's whereabouts, and Vic goes to Gerard to ask for help on a very important mission...I'll let you speculate about that.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings - depression, suicidal thoughts, anxiety, self-harm, and panic attacks.

“Hey kiddo.”

Ashton doesn’t flinch at the voice. He knew it was coming. He didn’t expect to stay hidden for long. 

Jordan sits down next to him and puts an arm around his shoulders. “You really gave us a scare, sweets.”

“Sorry.”

“I shoulda known you’d come here, though,” Jordan says wistfully. “This is where you go when things get to be too much.”

Ashton shrugs. “This is where I belong. I would’ve gone with them if I hadn’t been out dicking around with my friends.”

The house was never rebuilt. The charred remains are a forever reminder of what could’ve been of him. That fire could’ve been the end. If he were home he would’ve died like the rest of his family and the thought weighs heavy in his stomach.

“This will always be your house, babe,” Jordan tells him. “But it’s not your home. Not anymore. Your home is with us. Me, and Quinn, and all the kids at Willow Park. We’re your family now.”

“I had a family.” His chest is tight and the words hurt to get out. “I didn’t feel so lost all of the time.”

“I know, that’s a real shitty feeling, isn’t it?” Jordan replies. “I know you’re hurting Ash. Part of that will never go away. But you’ll learn to live with it. That part takes time. And can I let you in on a little secret?”

Ashton shrugs again. Looking at the house brings back a flood of memories. Helping mum in the kitchen, playing dolls with Lauren and footie with Harry, learning drums, going with stepdad to pubs on weekends to show off his skills…

All of it is gone.

“You survived for a reason, Ash,” Jordan says softly. “You get to live out the lives they won’t. You get to keep their memories alive. So live. Do everything they’re not gonna get to. Travel. See the world. Pursue your drumming. Fall in love.” She pauses. “Although you’ve already done that, haven’t you?”

“Don’t.” Tears are pricking the corners of his eyes and they burn. 

“I’m gonna let you in on another little secret,” Jordan continues. “That love, those feelings you have? They’re beautiful. They’re new and raw and scary, but they are so beautiful. Especially when they’re reciprocated.”

Ashton freezes. “W-What?”

“Come on. Let’s go home.”

…

“I’m really sorry…I didn’t mean to worry you guys, seriously, I just…needed some time to myself…”

Calum stands, walks right up to Ashton, and smashes their lips together. He feels Ashton’s surprise, but arms wrap around his neck and a tongue requests entry so clearly Ashton isn’t too shocked.

He’s breathless when they pull away, grinning at Ashton’s kiss bitten lips and startled expression. “You left before I got a chance to do that.”

“But…I thought…” Ashton trails off, shaking his head. “I didn’t think you liked me like that.”

“Well I didn’t think you were gay, so I guess we’re even,” Calum replies. He pulls Ashton closer and presses their foreheads together, looking into his eyes. “Don’t _ever_ do that to me again, okay? You scared me so bad.”

“I’m sorry.” Ashton punctuates the words with a kiss. “I didn’t…I thought you hated me. And that…I couldn’t be okay with that.”

“Hey,” Calum says. “I could never hate you. Even if I didn’t have feelings for you I wouldn’t _hate_ you for puttin’ yourself out there. I’d think you’re really fuckin’ brave. I do think you’re really fuckin’ brave. I dunno how long we would’ve been oblivious idiots if you hadn’t done that.”

“God, just ask him out and let go of each other already. He scared the hell outta all of us, you don’t get ta hog him.”

Calum rolls his eyes at Michael’s words, pecking Ashton’s lips once more. He moves his hands from Ashton’s waist to grab his hands, and brings them up to his lips. “So…boyfriends? I can’t stand not being with you.”

“Boyfriends.”

Calum kisses Ashton once more and then steps away reluctantly. As much of a dick as Michael is, he does have a point. Ashton scared all of them. They all deserve a chance to hug him and tell him he’s an idiot and hug him some more.

Jack is first, pulling Ashton to his chest harshly and whispering something in his ear. Ashton nods immediately, searching the room as he goes on to hug Michael, Luke, Vic, and Kellin. 

He’s looking for Alex.

Calum realizes it about the same time Ashton figures out that Alex isn’t there. He disappeared after his outburst in therapy. Calum cringes at the thought. It was scary. They all saw the blood on Alex’s sleeves and the tears running down his cheeks. He was on the verge of a panic attack when he left. Calum hates that he took on so much of the responsibility for Ashton running off. If anything, it was _his_ fault. He’s the one who was so oblivious to Ashton’s feelings for him. If he’d wised up sooner none of it would’ve happened.

“He’s in your room with Rian.”

…

Ashton has never felt more guilty.

Alex is crying, sobbing really, and judging by the bloodstained sweatshirt and bandages on his arms, he really did a number to himself. 

Because of _him_.

Alex blamed himself and Ashton doesn’t understand why. He chose to leave. He chose to run off without telling anyone where he was going. He chose to go, and somehow Alex has made it his fault.

“You gotta stop blaming yourself,” Ashton says, hugging Alex tighter. “ _I_ left. I chose to do it. It’s not on you. I’m so sorry you hurt yourself over me. You shouldn’t have. I’m not worth that.”

“I could’ve stopped you,” Alex whispers tearfully. “If I’d just slept in my fucking bed and not been so selfish.”

“Hey.” Ashton lifts his chin to look into his eyes. “I would’ve gone either way, Alex. I needed to get out. It was happening no matter what. You being here wouldn’t have changed anything. And aren’t you sleeping with Jack because he makes you feel safe?” Alex nods. “Then you’re not being selfish. You’re putting yourself first. There’s a difference.”

“Why did you go?”

Ashton sighs. “I got scared. I thought Cal would hate me for kissing him, and turn you all against me. It was stupid. I was stupid. But I needed to be alone. I needed to breathe. I’m just sorry it caused so much trouble.”

…

“Gerard?”

Gerard looks up in confusion. Vic is standing in the doorway, looking down at the floor. It’s so weird. They’ve never been close, never really talked. Then again, he doesn’t talk to much of anyone except Frank. 

“Did you need something?”

Vic squirms uncomfortably. “I wanted to talk to you…”

Gerard shrugs, glancing at Pete’s empty bed. Vic takes a seat and doesn’t meet his eyes. He doesn’t know what’s going on. He and Vic have never had a real, substantial conversation. There’s no telling what this could be about.

“What’s up?”

“Did, um, did you…” Vic trails off. Gerard can hear the shakiness in his voice. He still hasn’t looked up from the floor. “Did you ever find your brother?”

He freezes. “What?”

His heart is racing and he feels cold, like he’s been hit with a wave of frigid water. Mikey has always been at the back of his mind, no matter how hard he’s tried to forget him. Finding him was something he thought was out of the question after he ended up here. Mikey was taken to a separate foster home and they lost contact completely. 

Vic flinches. “Sorry, um, I…I know you have a brother and you guys got separated when you got taken out of your parents’ house, and…I’m kinda in the same boat. I wanna find my brother but I don’t know how to do it and I thought maybe if you’d found yours you could tell me what to do?”

“I haven’t found him,” Gerard chokes out. “Fuck, I haven’t even been lookin’…” He pushes his sketchbook off his knees and buries his head in his hands. 

He hasn’t been looking.

Mikey could be out there getting beaten, getting _raped_ , and he’s not even _trying_ to find him. He got comfortable, got complacent, got _selfish_ , with his boyfriend and his art and not being hit anymore, and Mikey’s suffering for it.

He used to be so selfless. 

He used to put Mikey before anything. He used to take the beatings and starvation so Mikey wouldn’t have to. He remembers being willing to be hurt in any way if it meant Mikey was unharmed. And now look at him. A fucking selfish asshole that got a boyfriend and a house where he’s safe and doesn’t give a shit about his baby brother anymore.

His _baby brother_. 

The bed dips and he feels a hand on his back. He doesn’t lift his head even when Vic begins to speak. He doesn’t want to see Vic’s pity eyes. “Hey, it’s okay. I haven’t started looking either. We can find them together.”

“You don’t get it!” He lifts his head, tears starting to build in his eyes. “He could be gettin’ fuckin’ raped! He could’ve gone to a home that’s awful. And I haven’t done _shit_ to find him! I’m so fuckin’ selfish.”

“My brother’s part of a gang involved in a drug cartel,” Vic replies. “I get you. We’ll find them. Together.”

…

Alex is fucked.

Weeks have gone by, enough time has passed for him to realize that the weirdness he’s felt around Jack is more than superficial. There’s a reason he doesn’t see him as the brother Ashton, Awsten, Kellin, and everyone else does. There’s a reason he likes cuddling with him so much at night. There’s a reason he’s drawn to every opportunity to curl up with Jack on the couch and watch him play video games, drinking in his scent and appreciating his warmth.

Even now, sitting across from him in the game room has Alex itching. Ashton and Calum are taking the other side of the couch Jack is sitting on, curled against each other with Calum’s upper body resting in Ashton’s lap and his legs on Jack’s. There’s no room for Alex to slide in.

It’s bothering him and it’s stupid. He’s being a baby and he knows it. 

“You’re not subtle, y’know.”

He jumps at the voice and Awsten smirks at him. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t,” Awsten replies. “That’s why you’re looking at Jack like you wanna jump his bones.”

Alex squirms uncomfortably, shaking his head. “Please don’t say anything…if it gets out he’ll eventually hear about it and that would fuckin’ kill me.”

Awsten rolls his eyes. “Grow some balls and ask him out, why don’t you? You two are cute. You’d be good together.”

“I don’t even know if he likes me back,” Alex whines, letting his head drop onto Awsten’s shoulder. “I don’t wanna look like an idiot.”

“You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

“Easy for you to say,” Alex mumbles. “You gotta boyfriend.”

“Because I strapped on my big boy pants and put myself out there!” Awsten giggles and nudges him. “What’s the worst that can happen? He says he doesn’t like you that way?”

“And it fucks me up,” Alex grumbles. “Rejection’s a bitch. I don’t wanna go through that.”

“So you’d rather take a page from Ashton’s book? Unrequited love sucks, Alex.”

“It’s better than knowing the truth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's a realization that surprised no one, I assume, lol. Next chapter, PTSD session with Lucas, Calum takes a FIFA session much too far, and Vic and Gerard start work on trying to find their brothers. You guys know what to do. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings - PTSD, anxiety, panic attacks, and mentions of self-harm and drug abuse.

“I guess things have been pretty good lately? I mean, it was shit until Geoff and I made up, especially because I was sleeping alone and I have nightmares when I’m by myself, but now things are back to normal and it’s so much better.”

Alex fidgets nervously as Awsten speaks, glancing around the small circle. They’re at the therapy session for PTSD, which is extremely anxiety-inducing because talking about PTSD symptoms means dredging up parts of his past he’s just not ready to confront.

“I feel that,” Ashton says. “Cal’s been comin’ to my room and just…knowing he’s there is more than enough. It sucks bein’ alone.”

Lucas nods in agreement. “It really does. There’s no drug to get rid of nightmares, unfortunately. One of the things that really helped me was grounding. Whenever I have a nightmare, Raven gets up with me and tells me things to help me remember where I am, kinda like reassuring me that I’m not in that place anymore and things are different. And of course, this won’t apply to you guys, but on nights when I can’t sleep and my head’s a mess, I go check on my kids, and I dunno, watching them sleep helps me relax and reminds me that yeah, things were awful a while back, but now I’m away from there and safe in my house with my family and everything’s okay.”

“Frank does that…” Gerard speaks up. “The grounding thing. I’ll wake up in a panic and he’ll grab my shoulders and make me look at him and tell me the date and time and where we are and it helps so fuckin’ much.”

“I, um…” Alex trails off. “I don’t have a boyfriend, but I usually curl up with Jack and the same thing sorta happens. I don’t think he knows I have PTSD though.”

“He knows you’ve been through something,” Ashton reminds him. “That’s enough. He knows what to do.”

“He’s seen it all,” Awsten says. “He’s got more experience than you think.”

The remarks about Jack having experience and knowing what to do in the hardest situations and being everyone’s “big brother” have Alex curious. He doesn’t know anything about Jack’s past. He’s not sure _anyone_ does. Jack is a mystery and he’s intrigued. 

Why has he been here the longest? What happened to him? Is being everyone’s big brother too much? Did he want the role or did it just fall into his lap? And most heartbreakingly, who the fuck made him feel like he wasn’t good enough to the point where he felt the need to start _starving_ himself? 

“I, um…I haven’t been sleeping,” Geoff speaks up, keeping his gaze trained on the floor. 

“What?” Awsten beats Lucas to reply, looking at him in disbelief. “What the hell do you mean? We sleep together every night.”

“ _You_ sleep,” Geoff corrects softly. “I lay awake and listen to your breathing but every time I close my eyes the nightmares are back. And it’s too much. Nothin’ helps.”

Awsten opens his mouth to say something but closes it at the last second. He reaches over and grabs Geoff’s hand, first bringing it up to his lips and then holding it in his lap with their fingers intertwined. 

“I prescribed you Zoloft when you first came here, right?” Lucas asks. His gaze travels to the ceiling, as if he’s trying to remember. At Geoff’s nod, he snaps his fingers. “Alright. So that’s for the anxiety, flashbacks, stuff like that. I can give you something to help you sleep and reduce the nightmares, if you don’t mind another pill. If you don’t wanna go that route, we can always try some things to help change the way your nightmares end. Whatever you’d feel more comfortable with.”

Geoff exchanges a glance with Awsten, who sighs. “It’s not up to me, babe. What do you wanna do? I’m by your side no matter what.”

“I kinda want the medication,” Geoff says slowly. “I want this to stop. I’m so sick of being tired all the time.”

Lucas nods. “I’ll talk to your moms once we’re done here and call in the prescription. But until then, Awsten, maybe you could try and stay up until he falls asleep? So you’ll be there if he has a nightmare. You can try grounding too. We’ll get this sorted out, I promise. Just hang on a bit longer.”

…

Alex is ignoring.

He’s putting every ounce of strength he has into ignoring the disbelief on Awsten’s face as he crawls onto the couch beside Jack and rests his head on his shoulder. Awsten’s curled up with Geoff on the other side of the room, _glaring_ at him.

Awsten’s a dick. It’s not that fucking easy to be like ‘hey Jack I have this huge crush on you and I want you to kiss me until my lips go numb and fuck me into your mattress and maybe if you could love me back that’d be great alright thanks’. It’s so much easier to live in the fantasy world he has in his head, where he and Jack are together and he’s happier than he’s been in a long time and his life is finally turning out the way he wants it to. He’s floating in his pretty pink bubble and he refuses to pop it.

“Dammit Mikey, over here! Pass it! Hurry!”

They’re playing FIFA once again, Michael and Calum versus Jack and Geoff. The game is so close, Jack and Geoff have just a slight lead and there’s about a minute left. Alex watches in amusement, rolling his eyes at how angry Calum’s getting. It’s a fucking game. He looks like he’s gonna kill Michael over a bunch of pixels. It’s ridiculous.

“Geoff-”

“Got it,” Geoff says, not taking his eyes off the screen. He and Jack are basically reading each other’s minds. They anticipate what the other is going to say before he even says it. It’s crazy.

“Fuck Mikey, no no no! Pass! Pass!” Calum’s on his feet, standing right in front of the TV and pressing buttons furiously. “Come on, pass it!”

Alex winces. He can’t look. There are ten seconds left. Michael has to pass now if they want a chance at wining. He’s too far to shoot.

The final buzzer sounds and Calum throws his controller down in frustration, whirling around to glare at Michael. “We lost! Fucking hell! This is all your fault! I don’t know how Luke even puts up with you, fuckin’ useless…”

He turns and stomps out of the room, muttering under his breath all the way.

Alex feels sick. There’s a pit in his stomach and the nausea is spiraling. He feels like he was the one Calum said that to. He can’t even imagine how Michael is feeling. 

“Mikey…”

“He didn’t mean that…”

“He was just angry.”

“He loves you Mikey, remember that…”

Michael doesn’t look at any of them. He stares down at his lap for a long time, chest rising and falling heavily. It’s obvious that he’s trying to staunch a panic attack, and that just makes the sick feeling grow in Alex’s stomach. Bottling things like this up never ends well.

“Mikey-”

Michael stumbles to his feet and staggers out of the room without a word. They hear a choked sob a couple minutes later, dry and painful-sounding.

Fuck.

…

Alex hasn’t been this angry in a really long time.

Watching a person wilt into nothing is legitimately horrifying. Michael went from loud, boisterous, dick joke making, fun-loving, to quiet, shy, insecure, wallflower in a matter of days. 

It’s just so frustrating. Calum makes Ashton so happy, and then he turns around and does this? Really? It was just a fucking _game_. So Michael didn’t play his best, big deal. It’s not like it was life or death or anything.

He seems to have realized the magnitude of what he said, but it’s too late now. Michael is a mess and Luke is clueless and everyone else is unbelievably pissed.

The only good thing to come out of this is the distraction it’s become for Alex. He has something to think about besides his feelings. He has something to talk to Jack about, something concrete, just so he won’t be tempted to spill the beans and take a risk like Ashton did. He’s not lucky. It won’t play out in his favor.

“Lex? What do you think?”

Alex blinks rapidly, glancing around the room at everyone’s expectant eyes. “I kinda zoned out…sorry…”

Geoff rolls his eyes. “We were talking about who should be the one to tell Luke and we agreed on Jack, but he wants your opinion.”

“You’re his roommate,” Alex says. “I think he’d take it best from you.”

“I still think it should be Ash,” Awsten mutters. “They’ve known each other the longest.”

“Do you really think he’s gonna talk shit about his boyfriend though?” Vic points out. “There’s no way to spin it to make Calum look like the good guy.”

“He’s _not_ the good guy,” Alex growls. “And it’s not a story to spin. Calum fucked up and Mikey’s a mess and Luke doesn’t know a damn thing. It doesn’t matter who tells him. They just needa make sure he knows that Mikey’s gonna need more love because as much as we said not to listen to him he probably did. Calum’s his best friend and when your best friend says something you usually believe it no matter how ridiculous it sounds.”

“He’s right,” Patrick says. “It doesn’t matter who tells him but he needs to know. I’m really worried about Mikey…”

“He hasn’t been eating,” Gerard points out. “And he’s been doing so well with it lately that moms are starting to get suspicious too.”

“And he’s living in long sleeves.”

“Relapse?”

“Bad.”

“Fuck.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Jack says. “We gotta do something before Mikey does.”

…

“Have you told Frank what we’re doing?”

Vic peers over Gerard’s shoulder at the laptop. The webpage open talks about the commonality of losing touch with siblings in foster care and gives some resources to start the search. 

It’s gonna be helpful to Gerard, but Vic knows Mike won’t be in there. They weren’t taken to foster care. They both joined the gang after their parents were arrested, but Vic decided to run away after seeing what some members were capable of. 

_I’ll come back for you baby, I promise_.

His own words haunt him. He _promised_. He swore he’d go back and he didn’t. He ended up on the streets until he was found by the police and brought here.

That was almost three years ago.

Mike could be dead for all he knows.

“No,” Gerard is saying. “He doesn’t need to know until we find something. I don’t want him to be disappointed.”

“So I shouldn’t tell Kellin?”

“That’s up to you,” Gerard replies matter-of-factly. “I just don’t want Frank to get his hopes up for me. I’m not lucky. Things usually don’t go my way. And I don’t want him to feel like he needs to take on the responsibility of comforting me if we don’t find anything. It’s just easier, if he doesn’t know.”

“No, I get that,” Vic sighs. “I just…really wanna find something, y’know? Make me feel less shit about myself.”

“You’re not gonna find anything on this website,” Gerard informs him. “Do you…is there _anything_ you know about the gang? A name would be amazing, but anything you can remember would help.”

“I…I don’t…” Vic shakes his head, blinking rapidly against the tears burning in his eyes. “Everything after that’s a blur of drugs and booze. Fuck, what am I gonna do…that’s my _baby brother_ …I said I’d come back for him…I _promised_ …”

A tear breaks through the barrier and falls down his cheek, and he squeezes his eyes shut. He’s never hated himself more.

Hands grip his shoulders. “Hey. Look at me.”

Gerard’s expression is sympathetic. “I know how you feel. We’ll find him. We won’t stop until we do. He’s out there somewhere, we just need to figure out where to look. We’ll find him, I promise.” 

Vic’s voice catches in his throat when he answers, “don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Things are getting...interesting. I'm two chapters ahead in writing, and trust me, shit's about to hit the fan. Next chapter goes into Luke's head a bit, and for Brendon...let's just say...things have been good for too long and the universe has decided to tear his entire world apart. Literally. You guys know what to do.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings - anxiety, panic attacks, mentions of eating disorders and suicide.

He doesn’t know what’s wrong.

Michael’s been different for almost a week now, so he knows there’s something going on, but he isn’t sure what. 

He doesn’t initiate anything. No touches, no kisses, no cuddles, nothing. Luke sleeps next to him at night but it’s like he’s not even there. He’s rigid, unmoving even when Luke tries to wrap his arms around him and pull him close. He’s not flinching at touch but he might as well be.

Luke doesn’t know what’s going on but it’s starting to scare him. Michael’s drifting further and further away and he’s so scared he’ll lose him. Relationships don’t work without communication and the radio silence makes things seem so much bleaker.

He operates under an extreme level of anxiety every day, only made bearable by Michael’s soft touches and lips pressed to his hair and a warm body resting against his. Michael makes his anxiety easier to deal with. He has a place to go, a place where he feels safe and protected and cared for. On the particularly bad days he curls into Michael and closes his eyes and drinks in the sweet nothings because they’re the only things that quiet the voices in his head.

He knows it’s his anxiety talking, he _knows_ , but the intrusive thoughts are paralyzing. The paranoia is exhausting. It’s constant. He’s going through everything he said to Michael before this started, examining every word at every angle, trying to figure out if he said anything potentially offensive enough to make Michael shut him out.

What the fuck did he do?

If Michael leaves him he won’t be okay. He doesn’t know how to cope without him. He’s dependent and it’s unhealthy and he knows it but no other coping mechanism has worked the way Michael has. Michael is warm, safe, _comforting_. He always knows just what to say. He knows after a long day of forced socialization that all Luke wants is to be by himself, knows when to give him space and when to give him love. They’ve established a routine that works perfectly, or so he thought it did.

Michael’s eating disorder has always been a point of contention. He’s never understood it. Michael is beautiful, his _body_ is beautiful. He doesn’t need to starve himself and Luke can’t understand why he does. He would never voice it but eating disorders in general confuse him. He knows it’s perception but how can someone see themselves as fat when they’re nowhere near it?

He’s made an effort to be as supportive as physically possible. He’s talked to Frank, talked to Gerard, talked to Lucas, done research, tried his absolute best to understand what Michael’s going through and model his words and actions after it. He thinks he’s been doing well but maybe that’s not the case.

Maybe he said something, did something that made Michael feel insecure and self-conscious. Maybe he fucked something up somehow and Michael’s suffering because of it. The fact that he doesn’t even know what he did is telling enough. 

He fucked up and now he’s gonna lose the best thing that ever happened to him.

No wonder he can’t breathe anymore.

…

“Hey love, can we talk to you for a second?”

Brendon looks up from his notebook warily. Both Quinn and Jordan are standing in the doorway, and the looks on their faces are almost a guarantee that this isn’t gonna be good news.

“Yeah, um, what’s goin’ on?” He flips the notebook shut and sets it and his pen on his nightstand, pulling his knees to his chest to make room for them to sit on the bed.

Jordan and Quinn exchange a glance, and Quinn reaches over to grab his hands. “Babe, we just got a call from Ryan’s parents…he was riding his bike home from school this afternoon, and there was a car coming, and the driver was texting and didn’t see him, and-”

“No.” He feels sick. Nausea is swirling in the pit of his stomach and bubbling up his throat. “No.”

“Sweetheart, listen,” Quinn says gently, squeezing his hands. “It’s good news. He’s alive. They rushed him to the hospital and he pulled through surgery.”

Surgery? His vision is blurry. He feels dizzy, faint almost. He rips his hands out of Quinn’s and scrambles off the bed, running down the hall and into the bathroom. He drops to his knees in front of the toilet and proceeds to lose the very little lunch he ate. 

A hand rubs his back in soft circles, and another reaches up to flush the toilet when he finishes. He sits back on his heels and turns his head, tears pouring down his cheeks. “I-Is he okay?”

Quinn says nothing. He looks from her to Jordan, noting the look of sadness mixed with sympathy. “Tell me!”

“There was some brain damage…he’s in a coma, sweetheart.”

Brendon’s world goes black before he can hear the rest.

…

“So is he gonna be okay?”

Jordan sighs. “That’s hard to tell right now. If he wakes up, most likely. But…”

“There’s a chance he won’t wake up,” Gerard supplies somberly. “That’s…that’s fuckin’ messed up.”

“How’s Brendon?” 

“His boyfriend’s in a coma, how the fuck do you think he is?”

“It was just a question!”

“A stupid one.”

“Guys!” Jordan holds up both hands in surrender. “Please. He’s a mess. He needs our love and support. I know you guys care a lot about each other, now’s the time to really show how much. He needs you to be there for him. Watch out for him. Take care of him. The last thing on his mind is gonna be taking care of himself.”

“He can sleep in my room.”

“I’ll go with him to the hospital.”

“I’ll sit with him at every meal.”

“Thanks guys.” Jordan forces a smile. “You’re such good kids, I’m so proud of you all.”

She bids them goodbye with the notion to go check on Brendon, and Jack sighs. “Well fuck.”

It just sucks. Brendon’s probably best off out of all of them. His recovery is going well, he’s opening up more, he’s been thriving for the past few months and it’s all been torn apart in one day.

It’s gonna be so hard to come back from this. If Ryan doesn’t make it everything Brendon’s worked so hard for in the past couple years is down the toilet and that’s what sucks the most. 

“Someone’s gotta be with him 24/7,” Frank says lowly. “It’s gonna be so fucking easy to relapse.”

“He’ll sleep with me, Ash is gonna sit with him at every meal, and Pete, you’re goin’ with him to the hospital?” Jack replies. “I think we got him covered for the first couple weeks at least.”

“It’s not fuckin’ fair,” Vic mumbles. “He was gettin’ _better_. This is so fucked up. Texting and driving? Seriously?”

“It sucks,” Jack deadpans. “It really fuckin’ sucks. But there’s nothin’ we can do about it now. We just gotta get him through this.”

“Are you really that optimistic?”

“I wish I was.”

…

He wants this to be a nightmare.

A terrible nightmare that he’ll wake up from to realize that Ryan is fine, he’s not in the hospital, he’s not in a _coma_ …he’s fine, everything’s fine, his world isn’t falling apart right before his very eyes. 

He wakes to pain, a pounding in his skull, a resounding ache that sits behind his eyes, sore from all the crying. 

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

He lifts his head and winces because fuck. The migraine is throbbing. “Wha’…timesit?”

He sounds terrible. He doesn’t feel much better. The words hurt to get out. He doesn’t remember much. They said Ryan was in a coma…everything’s fuzzy after that. 

Pete shoots him a sympathetic smile. “Just after midnight. Moms let you sleep through dinner. How are you feeling?”

That explains why the room is so dark. The only light is coming from Pete’s phone. He’s made himself comfortable, perched in Brendon’s desk chair with his feet propped up on the desk. One of the advantages of having the room to himself is that he actually has room for a decently sized desk and one of those spinny chairs everyone loves. 

“I needa see him,” Brendon croaks. It doesn’t matter how he’s feeling. He’s not the one in a coma, barely hanging on. Just thinking about it has his stomach turning. He pushes into a sitting position and rests his back against the wall, bringing his knees up to his chest and burying his head in them.

Ryan is everything. Everyone else has their boyfriend in the group home, even Jack and Alex who haven’t gotten their shit together. They’re gonna end up together at some point, that’s obvious. He’s the only one who’s dating someone on the outside, so as if things weren’t bad enough, he’s alone now. 

He’s alone and he’s selfish because Ryan’s in a fucking _coma_ and all he can think about is being lonely. It’s bullshit. But thinking about the fact that his boyfriend may never wake up makes him want to put a bullet in his brain so he’s really trying not to. 

Everything about this hurts. He’s overwhelmed and stressed and anxious as fuck and he doesn’t have a safe place to go anymore because what used to be his safe place is the cause of his stress and anxiety. He’s losing everything and he feels like he can’t breathe. 

“Visiting hours start at 8,” Pete informs him. “Ryan’s parents put you on the always approved list, so you’re good to go…” He trails off with a sigh. “You need to eat something, B.”

“Don’t call me that.” He bites the words and tries to fight the nausea swelling in his throat. Everything reminds him of Ryan. Everything is a devastating reminder of what he’s about to lose. 

A pair of arms wraps around him, and he squeezes his eyes shut, choking out a sob. He’s run out of tears from crying so much in the past few hours. His face is swollen and everything hurts and he wants this to be a dream but things have been good for too long so obviously the universe has to throw a wrench into things.

Pete’s grip keeps tightening, like he’s trying to hold him together, but it’s nothing compared to Ryan’s soft touches or whispers in his ear or promises he’ll be okay.

Pete’s promises are laced with uncertainty because he doesn’t _know_ , no one knows if Ryan’s ever gonna be okay.

And that’s enough to destroy him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not even gonna ask for your thoughts, I know you're all very angry at me right now, lol. I've kinda ignored Brendon for most of this story, I had to figure out a way to make him the center of attention somehow. It ended in this. Next chapter, Vic reveals the harsh truth about his life before Willow Park, Brendon visits Ryan, Alex pushes Jack a little too far, and Michael and Luke finally clear the air. You know what to do.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings - abuse, rape, talk of gangs, anxiety, eating disorders, and mentions of self-harm.

“Should we really be doing this right now?”

Gerard shrugs. “The fuck are we gonna do for Brendon? It’s not like we can wave a magic wand that’ll make Ryan wake up.”

It’s not that he doesn’t feel terrible, because he does. He spent the night curled around Frank, trying to draw him in as close to his body as physically possible, protect him from some unimaginable danger. He can’t imagine being in Brendon’s situation. Even the thought makes his stomach turn. Frank means the world to him. 

He isn’t sure he’d be able to live if Frank wasn’t.

“Really fucks you up, doesn’t it?” Vic sighs. “God…if somethin’ like that happened to Kells…I dunno if I’d even be alive.”

“Same, man,” Gerard replies tightly. The more he thinks about it the more nauseous he gets. He can’t get the image of Frank lying in a hospital bed out of his head. As many times as he tries to reassure himself that Frank is one hundred percent fine, his mind is still conjuring up images of blood and bandages and _hesinacomahesdyinghesgonnaleaveyou_. “Did you think of anything from the gang?”

“I…not much,” Vic says. “I just remember them trying to get coke across the border…I was really young. They didn’t tell us much. We just got in the way. They were clever though. Got us hooked early so we wouldn’t rat ‘em out.”

“On like…drugs?” Gerard feels stupid asking the question. The idea of drug cartels and gangs is new to him. He’s never been involved or known anyone who was involved (besides Vic). It sounds horrifying. From what Vic’s told him, gangs are strict as fuck. Once you’re in you can’t get out. Every operation comes with the risk of death. They’re all addicted to drugs and ready to kill no matter what. They’d kill one of their own if they had to. Everything is complicated; an interwoven web that’s so tightly wound it’s impossible to find the end.

“Yeah,” Vic replies. “They got us addicted young so we lost that control and sense of right and wrong so they could groom us to be one of them. We were like robots, and now we could do their dirty work without a conscience.” 

“How’d…” Gerard trails off with a sigh. He doesn’t know how to do this. It’s easy, with Frank, because their stories really aren’t that different. They both had semi-normal childhoods; he knows what to say. Abuse isn’t normal by any means but he grew up in a house with a white picket fence, two parents and a brother, the traditional “American Dream”. Vic grew up in a gang that was involved in a drug cartel. His addiction to drugs and alcohol came from needing an escape, Vic’s came from being forced to consume them way too young. 

It’s hard to know what to say because Vic’s been through worse.

“How’d I get out,” Vic supplies. “Right? That’s what everyone wants to know.”

“You don’t havta tell me…”

Vic shrugs. “I trust you. I know this is gonna be hard for you but I really don’t want you to tell Frank. Kellin’s the only one who knows. Well, besides moms.”

“I won’t.” Vic’s right, it’ll be hard. He tells Frank _everything_ , even things that seem trivial. They built a relationship on transparency; it’ll be hard to keep something from him, but this is clearly huge and hard for Vic to talk about and he wants to respect his wishes. 

“I ran away,” Vic says, voice low and gaze on the floor. “They just…killed someone. It was too much. I needed to get out. I snuck out one night and ended up on the streets until some guy found me in an alley. He…he was nice at first.” His voice breaks. “He bought me food and let me stay in his apartment. But then he…he wanted to have sex. I wasn’t ready. And he didn’t take no for an answer. He raped me and left me on the side of the road to die, I guess. Jordan found me a few days later.”

…

“Oh my god…”

Brendon feels sick. Nausea swells in his stomach and bubbles up his esophagus. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to force it back down, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat.

“We’ll give you some privacy.” Someone squeezes his shoulder and he blinks, tears filling his eyes at the forced smile on Ryan’s mom’s face. He’s been close with Ryan’s family since they started dating. He’s over at their house so often that it was hard not to form bonds with his parents. It makes him feel part of a traditional family, something he lacks in the group home and desperately needs. He spends so much time at the Ross’ because of it. He feels like he’s apart of their family and it’s the sense of normalcy he craves.

He steps up to Ryan’s bed and grabs his hand, bringing it up to his lips. “Ry, I-I love you. I love you so much and I just.” His voice breaks as a sob escapes. “I need you. I need your hugs and kisses and touches and hands in my hair and I just…you mean the fucking world to me and I don’t say it enough. You always tell me how amazing I am and I don’t do the same and I’m the worst fuckin’ boyfriend in the world for it because you deserve to hear it all the time.”

He leans over and brushes some hair out of Ryan’s face. There’s a plaster covering what the doctor said was a deep head laceration and he honestly doesn’t know what’s worse. The white bandage breaks his heart, but the thought of seeing Ryan’s skin marred by a huge gash on his forehead has his stomach turning. 

He swallows and presses his lips to Ryan’s, choking out a sob. He’s lost count of how many times he’s kissed Ryan, but this is the first time he hasn’t kissed back. “I-I’m so sorry…”

The whole situation is wrecking him. He hasn’t slept. He’s always struggled with eating but now everything he puts in his mouth makes him nauseous. There’s a constant lump in his throat. He’s always on the verge of tears. He looks and smells like shit and he doesn’t care.

All he cares about is this boy, this boy lying in a hospital bed, fighting for his life. All he cares about is this boy making it, living through another night and fighting to come back to him. All he cares about is this boy and their future together because he knows it’s bright but it’ll only happen if he survives this.

All he cares about is right here, right now, because his entire world is lying comatose in a hospital bed and everything else is trivial. 

…

“Babe, you gotta eat something…”

“Come on Bren, just a little more and then we can go back to the hospital, okay?”

“You’re doing so good kid. Just a little more.”

Jack watches, as Quinn and Jordan try to convince Brendon to finish his lunch. It’s not a pretty sight. Brendon’s an absolute mess. He’s got huge bags under his bloodshot eyes, messy, unwashed hair, and Jack swears he’s gotten paler over the past couple days. He’s been living in the same sweats and one of Ryan’s shirts for almost three days and they’re starting to smell, but no one dares tell him that.

Part of him is relieved that this happened. It sounds sick and he knows it, but part of him is relieved that all moms’ attention is on Brendon because it takes it off him. They don’t notice when he scoops part of his lunch into a napkin and shoves it into the pocket of his sweatshirt. 

“I saw that.”

Jack freezes, heart racing, cold washing over him. He lifts his head shakily. “W-What?”

Alex sighs. “I saw you put half your sandwich in your pocket, Jack. You’re doing so well, Jacky…don’t ruin it…”

Jack scoffs. He’s not doing any better, but at least his acting is improving. “Whatever.”

“No, not whatever.” Alex grabs his wrist and he tries so hard, but he can’t help it.

He winces and watches the color drain from Alex’s face. He watches the water begin to well up in his eyes as he looks down at his wrist. Alex is shaking his head, a tear streaming down his cheek. “Jack, you didn’t…”

Part of him is glad to see the heartbreak on Alex’s face when he draws his sleeve up. Maybe now he’ll know the pain Jack feels every time he relapses. Maybe it’ll urge him to stop. In terms of self-harm, Alex is much more far gone than Jack. For Jack it’s just a shitty habit that he’ll have no problem breaking, but for Alex, it’s a coping mechanism he relies on. 

Jack tugs his arm away and brings it to his chest. “It’s fine, Lex. I’m fine. I’m not gonna do it again.”

Alex just stares at him. “Who the fuck are you lying to, Jack? I’ve been there. You say it’s a one time thing and don’t realize how damn addicting it is. It’s not somethin’ you can just stop.”

“I know what I’m doing.” Jack bites the words and doesn’t meet his gaze. “Drop it, okay? I’m fine.”

“You’re not, though. Cutting aside, you’re still not eating…” Alex mutters. “Are you trying to kill yourself?”

“Maybe I am,” Jack shoots back. “Maybe I’m not. Either way, it’s none of your _fucking_ business, so _drop it_.”

It works, Alex doesn’t say anything for the rest of the meal, but Jack hears him choke out a sob.

That’s how he knows he’s really fucked up.

…

“Mikey? Can we please talk?”

Luke’s voice is breaking. Michael can hear the tears. He lifts his head, concern growing at Luke’s red eyes and messy hair. He’ll admit he hasn’t been the most _present_ boyfriend in the past couple weeks, but he would’ve known if things were getting bad again.

Wouldn’t he?

Michael nods, scooting over to make space on the bed. Luke is shaking when he presses against him, vibrating profusely. His skin is clammy and he’s sweating. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Are you mad at me?” Luke demands. His eyes are wild. “Did I do something wrong?”

“What? No! Of course not!” Michael exclaims. “Why the hell do you think you did something wrong?”

“Why else would you be ignoring me?”

And then he understands.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, shaking his head. “Luke, no…it’s not you.” 

“What is it then?” Luke mutters. “You barely talk to me and don’t look at me and fuck Mikey, you won’t even let me touch you.” His voice catches at the last part and he squeezes his eyes shut, a tear falling down his cheek. “What was I supposed to think?”

“Did…did anyone tell you what happened?” Michael asks quietly. “With Cal?”

“No…”

“We-We had a fight,” Michael mumbles, looking down at his lap. “Well, not even a fight. He just flipped shit on me because we lost at FIFA. And he said he didn’t…he didn’t know how you put up with me because I’m so useless… And I guess…part of me believed him? I, um.” He rolls up his sleeves and holds his arms out for Luke to see. “I know it was stupid, but when your _best friend_ says horrible things about you you can’t help but believe them. I thought maybe if I was distant enough you’d just break up with me and save yourself the pain.”

Hands wrap around his waist and a pair of lips presses to his. Tears burn in his eyes as he kisses Luke back, pulling him onto his lap. Luke straddles his body and presses their foreheads together when he pulls away. “God Mikey, _how_ could you think that? I _love_ you. I love you so fuckin’ much and _nothing_ is gonna change that. You mean the world to me, Mikey. I’m not okay without you. Breaking up with you wouldn’t save me any pain, it would give me more pain than I’ve ever felt. I don’t think I could live without you, Mikey. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Michael sobs, squeezing Luke tighter. “I’m so sorry.”

Luke smiles, beginning to press kisses all over his face. “Don’t let Calum or any other asshole tell you how I feel about you, okay? I love you. You make me happy. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? I tried to brighten the chapter up with Muke resolving things, but I don't know how effective it was considering how sad the rest was, lol. Next chapter, Alex suffers the aftermath of his conversation with Jack and that brings up more of his painful past, Jack learns more about Alex from the person who knows him best, Gerard confesses his fear about finding Mikey, and Frank and Kellin start getting suspicious.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings - anxiety, panic attacks, abuse, and suicidal thoughts.

The panic is back.

The shitty on-edge feeling he had for the first few days he was here? It’s back with a vengeance. 

He’s nervous, as skittish as he was when he didn’t know anyone, afraid to breathe wrong and piss someone off. 

Jack is pissed at him.

Jack, the person who everyone looks up to, the person who has basically all the control, the person who has the power to change everyone else’s minds if he chooses to do so. Jack’s gonna tell them all what a shitty person he is and they’re all gonna turn on him and he’s gonna have no one. 

Needless to say, breathing’s been hard.

He fucked up and pissed Jack off and he’s so _scared_. He hasn’t messed up this bad since he was back home and accidentally broke a glass, and that ended in a beating so bad he needed a hospital. His dad broke two ribs and gave him a nasty concussion. 

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t expect Jack to lunge at him. He was waiting, bracing himself for a hit that never came. The anger in Jack’s eyes was terrifying. Alex’s only seen that look on one other person, the cause of his nightmares and panic attacks and addiction to splitting his skin open.

“Lex? You’re zoning out again, what’s going on?”

He called Rian. He’s a fucking wimp and a huge ass baby but he couldn’t walk around the house in fear any longer and he knew Jack wouldn’t hit him if Rian were there. Rian works out, he’s mildly threatening and can definitely do a great deal of damage to someone as bony as Jack.

“Sorry,” Alex says quickly, shaking his head. “Nothin’. Just missed you.”

“Bullshit.” Rian rolls his eyes. “You can’t lie to me, Alex. I’m not here for cuddles and Blink-182, what’s _really_ goin’ on?”

“ _Nothing_.” Alex grits his teeth and tries not to snap. He can’t have another person mad at him. 

“Okay, if that’s really true then I can call Zack and tell him I can go on our date after all,” Rian replies. 

“Jack’s gonna hit me!”

Rian’s too good. He would’ve figured it out eventually. Alex doesn’t know why he even bothered keeping this from him, Rian knows him better than he knows himself and can easily tell when something’s off. He never would’ve left. He knew something was up. Alex loves and hates him for it. He loves that he doesn’t have to articulate what he’s feeling because Rian just _knows_ , but it’s fucking frustrating to not have any secrets.

“He’s _what_?”

Alex nods miserably. Tears are forming in his eyes and his vision is getting blurry. “I…I said something and pissed him off and he’s gonna hurt me.”

“Did he tell you that?” The look on Rian’s face is murderous. “Did he fuckin’ threaten you?”

“No, I,” Alex stutters. “I just know it’s gonna happen. I made him mad, I deserve to be punished.”

Rian’s eyes soften. “Lex…” He exhales heavily. “Come here.” 

Alex stiffens, scooting away when Rian tries to pull him into his arms. “No…I don’t deserve it…”

“Stop.” Rian pulls him in and onto his lap. Alex squirms, trying to get away, but Rian’s grip is strong and his hold is warm and Alex is so _tired_. Putting up a fight seems pointless. He relaxes against Rian and lets his head flop back into his shoulder. “Al, we’ve talked about this. You don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve any of what’s happened to you.”

“I made him mad,” Alex repeats numbly. He fucked up. He deserves to be punished. That’s how it works. 

_You’ve been a very bad boy, Alexander._

_How will you learn if you’re not punished?_

_When you do something wrong, you get punished for it. If you don’t want to be punished, don’t do anything wrong. It’s simple enough that even a faggot like you should be able to understand_. 

“You need to tell Jordan and Quinn about this,” Rian urges. “You need help, Lex. You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

“I can’t keep doing this.” The words hurt to get out. His head is pounding and he’s dizzy.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s too hard.”

“What’s too hard?”

“Living.”

…

“Hey uh, Jack? Can we talk?”

Jack jumps at the unfamiliar voice. Seeing the owner only makes his heart race faster. “Um yeah, what’s up?”

Rian sits on the edge of Luke’s bed with a sigh. “I wanted to talk about Alex.”

“He told you, didn’t he?” The feeling of panic is overwhelming. Nausea is swirling in his stomach and he feels sort of dizzy, a cold feeling rushing over him. He’s never had a panic attack but he knows the signs of one, and he’s getting pretty close. “I didn’t mean to scare him, I promise! I was angry and I let it get the best of me.”

“What exactly did you say?” Rian’s tone isn’t hostile, just curious. He sounds completely calm and it’s confusing. Jack was prepared for fury, dripping, uncontrollable rage, because he knows how protective Rian is of Alex. They all do. If the roles were switched he knows Zack would be getting ready to murder Alex.

“He called me out on not eating,” Jack whispers, looking down at his lap. “And I told him it wasn’t his business and to drop it. I was so mean about it, fuck, I know he was crying, I _know_. I didn’t mean to be a dick, I swear.”

“It’s not your fault.” The words are punctuated by a resigned sigh. Jack whips his head up and stares at Rian. What the hell does he mean? Of course it’s his fault. He snapped at Alex, that was all him. Who else’s fault could it be?

“What do you mean?”

“Fuck…” Rian trails off, shaking his head. “I don’t know how much he’s okay with me tellin’ you. Shit, alright, not a word of this to _anyone_ , okay? If he finds out I told you he’ll kill me.” 

Jack steels himself for what he’s about to say, unsure. The buildup makes it seem awful and he knows that’s not an exaggeration.

“His parents fucked him up,” Rian says quietly. “Like, _really_ fucked him up. His mom left and that screwed up a lot in his head, and his dad…he was crying because he thought you were gonna hit him, Jack. He was waiting for you to punish him.”

Jack stares at him. Alex thought…Alex thought _what_? He thought he was gonna get hit for that? He genuinely thought Jack would _hit_ him? His stomach is turning and he feels slightly dizzy. “I… _what_?”

“He’s a mess, Jack. I know it may not seem like that, but trust me…” Rian’s voice catches in his throat. “He’s a goddamn mess and I’m so worried about him because he won’t tell Jordan and Quinn.”

“He’s in therapy for self-harm, depression, anxiety, and PTSD,” Jack points out. “I think they’ve got it covered…”

“They don’t though,” Rian says. “He’s not telling the whole truth. He’s too anxious for that. He needs to talk to someone one on one.”

“I know Lucas does individual shit,” Jack replies. “I’ll ask them about it.”

“I know you care about him, Jack,” Rian mutters. “I know you mean well. I know you didn’t mean to hurt him. But…he’s my best friend. He’s saved me just as much as I’ve saved him. Being without him for two months killed me.” He chokes out something that sounds between a sob and a laugh. “I’ve been savin’ him for as long as I can remember, but…I can’t- I can’t save him from this. And I’m so scared I’m gonna lose him…”

Jack swallows against the lump in his throat and goes over to sit next to Rian. He wraps a hesitant arm around his shoulders and pulls him close. “You won’t, I promise. We’ll get him through this.”

…

“Did you try this site? It’s like a database for foster kids. I dunno if he’s still in the system or not, but…”

Vic points to a search bar in the corner. “It seemed pretty sketchy at first, but I checked it out and it looks legit. You just gotta put in his name and birthday and all that shit.”

Gerard hesitates. This is all happening so fast. Part of him, as sick as it sounds, doesn’t want to find Mikey. He knows it’s selfish, but things are going to spiral with Mikey back in his life and he honestly isn’t sure if he’s ready.

There are so many unknowns. They lost complete contact after being separated. Gerard knows nothing. Who knows where he’s been, what he’s been through…it’s like he’s an entirely new person and Gerard isn’t sure he’s ready to meet that person.

“Gerard? Did you get that?”

Vic’s been amazing. It’s gonna be so much harder to find his brother but he’s helping Gerard anyway. It was his idea, and he’s googling websites and doing research and helping Gerard even though he knows he won’t get anything out of it. 

“Yeah sorry,” Gerard says quickly. “I’m just…this is a lot, y’know? M’still tryin’ to process.”

“I feel that,” Vic replies. “I didn’t think about it at first. How scary this is. They’re like, different people. They’ve been through something just like we have. What if it changed them completely?”

Gerard cringes, shaking his head. “Don’t, please. I’m tryin’ not to think about that.”

The Mikey he grew up with was sensitive and sweet, wracked with extreme social anxiety and an overall shyness around everyone. He was quiet until he got to know you and then he wouldn’t shut up. Some of Gerard’s fondest memories include cuddling after school, sketching with Mikey sitting between his legs, lying against his chest and talking about his day in vivid detail. The sound of his voice was soothing. They did that for hours.

He misses it so much. 

“As long as he doesn’t hate me.” Vic’s voice cracks. “I can deal with anything but that.”

The thought has crossed Gerard’s mine many times before, but now, staring at the web browser open to a foster kid database, heart racing and stomach churning, it feels so much more real.

What _if_ Mikey hates him?

…

They’re talking again.

Vic and Gerard have been getting closer and closer over the past couple weeks. Frank’s seen them go from practically strangers to best friends in such a short time that it’s suspicious. 

Gerard wouldn’t cheat on him.

He _wouldn’t_.

Gerard loves him.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?”

He jumps at the voice, glancing over at Kellin. “Yeah…but I’m not worried. I trust Gee.”

“I’m trying to trust Vic,” Kellin breathes. “I really am. But we _just_ got back together. What if he’s havin’ second thoughts and exploring his options?”

“Gerard loves me,” Frank repeats. “And Vic loves you. They wouldn’t do that.”

“Do you know that for sure though? They’ve _never_ talked, until a couple weeks ago. And now they’re like, best friends? Something’s up.”

“Stop!” Frank exclaims. “Stop tryna make me paranoid! I _trust_ Gerard!”

“Chill man.” Kellin holds both hands up in surrender. “Sorry. If you trust him that’s on you. But I’m gonna do a little snooping. I can’t go through this heartbreak bullshit again.”

Frank doesn’t reply. He watches as Vic scoots even closer to Gerard, the space between their bodies slowly starting to close. Vic rests his chin on Gerard’s shoulder, staring intently at the laptop balanced on Gerard’s thighs.

Frank’s stomach turns.

“What did you have in mind?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Next chapter's the climax, the one you've all been waiting for. Calum talks to Michael (finally), Awsten and Geoff talk nightmares, Frank tells Kellin about how he and Gerard met, and...Alex finally summons up the courage to have a very important conversation with Jack. You guys know what this is about. ;) The more comments I get, the quicker you get the chapter. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings - anxiety, panic attacks, PTSD, and eating disorders.

“I was having a bad day.”

The flinch is involuntary. He’s on alert as soon as he hears Calum’s voice, heart pounding and mind racing. 

He hates it.

Calum is his _best friend_. They’ve grown up together. Calum has been the person he’s gone to with everything, from his fears about asking Luke out to his bad days with his eating disorder. Calum was the first to realize he _had_ an eating disorder. Every bad day, every nightmare, every panic attack…Calum was there for all of it with soft touches and forehead kisses and back rubs and the overall reminder that he’d always be there.

On his darkest days, that got him through.

He hates that comfort turned into fear.

“Mikey…” Calum’s voice cracks. “Please, don’t be scared of me…I’m so sorry.”

Michael lifts his head and meets Calum’s eyes. The pain and genuine sadness reflected in them is heartbreaking. He wants to forgive him. He wants to forgive him more than anything because he can’t stand fighting with Calum. He wants the cuddles and kisses and back rubs back more than anything.

He bites his lip and opens his arms tentatively. 

The smile on Calum’s face is wider than he’s ever seen before. He crosses the room in two strides, leaping into the couch and curling up against Michael. Michael breathes out heavily, closing his eyes and tilting his head to rest it on top of Calum’s.

They stay like that for a few minutes, basking in the silence and enjoying each other’s company. Michael’s missed it more than he realized. Luke means the world to him, but he’s not Calum. He doesn’t get him the way Calum does. There’s just something about your best friend that’s unparalleled. Significant other or not, no one can match up to their level of understanding. 

He likes to think of Calum as his platonic soulmate. Luke is the love of his life but Calum is his soulmate.

“It’s been hard,” Calum speaks up. “Things have been kinda low for a while now and it’s really fuckin’ me up because Ash and I _just_ got together. M’supposed to be happy. Things are supposed to be good. But they’re not and I was frustrated and angry and I know that’s no excuse, but Mikey…you’re my best friend. You’ve been there through everything. And fuck, you are everything _but_ useless.”

Michael understands. Calum’s bipolar disorder hasn’t been as much of a problem since he was put on a combination of anti-depressants and anti-psychotics. The medication keeps him balanced, but he does have the occasional bad day. Michael didn’t pick up on it. He would’ve known to stay out of Calum’s way with the exception of silent cuddle if he’d known.

“Please…this can’t be the thing that tears us apart,” Calum chokes out. “I can’t lose you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Mikey. 

A tear rolls down his cheek and Michael swallows hard, squeezing Calum tightly to his chest and burying his nose in his hair. 

He just wishes he believed that.

…

“Aws, seriously. You can go to bed. M’okay. S’not like I’m not used to this.”

Awsten rolls his eyes, fighting the urge to thump Geoff in the back of the head. Like he’s actually going to go to sleep knowing his boyfriend is awake because his head won’t shut up. Bullshit. He loves Geoff, but sometimes he can be a real dumbass.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” Awsten mutters. He tugs Geoff down to rest his head in his lap. “Just try an’ sleep, okay? It’s okay if you can’t.”

“It’s not that I can’t,” Geoff says irritably. “It’s that being tired all day is better than waking up on the verge of a panic attack because of my fucking dreams.”

Awsten sighs. He knows Geoff’s been through hell. He knows the nightmares are flashbacks and he’s transported to times of fear and pain and uncertainty and it wreaks havoc on him day in and day out. He knows things are bad and they won’t be fixed with a few choice words, but it’s _something_. He can’t just do nothing. Love isn’t enough and he feels fucking useless.

“I just don’t get why I can sleep and you can’t,” he mumbles, half to himself. “I mean, we both have PTSD.”

“Fucks everyone up differently,” Geoff reminds him. “I have nightmares, you have agoraphobia.”

“I just…I don’t know what to do,” Awsten confesses. “And it’s killing me. You help me so much, with the eating thing, the anxiety, the nightmares…you give me strength and you give me courage and it fucking _kills_ me that I can’t do the same for you.”

“Aws,” Geoff sighs. “That’s awful, you can’t think like that. It’s not helpin’ anyone.”

“It’s not hurting anyone either, is it?” 

Geoff shrugs. “It fuckin’ kills me that you’ll always have the shitty trauma at the back of your head from that goddamn conversion therapy camp, but there’s nothing I can do about it, can I? Besides give you all the love and support I have. So why waste energy thinking about it?”

“I just…I feel like you’re giving me so much more than I’m giving you,” Awsten whispers. “And I don’t want you to leave me because you don’t feel like I’m giving enough.”

“Hey.” Geoff leans in and presses his lips to Awsten’s. “I love you, okay? You give me more than you think you do, baby. You give me cuddles and kisses and love and I know that may not seem like much to you, but to me…” He trails off with a sigh. “My uncle took everything from me, Aws. He broke me. And you put me back together. You may not see it, but trust me, you did. And that’s fuckin’ priceless.”

…

“Dude, calm down. You’re like, fuckin’ freaking out.”

Kellin wishes he were exaggerating. Frank is frantic in his tearing up of Gerard’s side of the room. It’s jarring. He knew he’d be suspicious, but never this paranoid. It’s an unsettling feeling. Kellin almost feels guilty for not being as concerned.

It makes sense. Frank and Gerard don’t fight. It just doesn’t happen. Kellin doesn’t think he’s ever seen them have even an argument. They get each other; they’re on the same wavelength, so much so that they can practically read each other’s minds. It’s crazy. 

“I can’t help it!” Frank exclaims. “I need to know!”

His breathing is heavy and his eyes are wild. Kellin knows from therapy sessions that Frank’s anxiety is very present and very severe. He’s well on his way to a panic attack. Gerard is in the next room, and if he hears Frank really start to panic, they’re done for.

He crosses the room and grabs Frank’s shoulders, forcing him to look at him. “Hey. You gotta calm down. I know you’re scared, I am too. But panicking isn’t gonna help anyone.”

The hysteria is beginning to die down. Kellin watches as Frank’s breathing slowly begins to return to normal. He tightens his grip on Frank’s body, holding him up as the exhaustion starts to hit. Lowering him down to sit on Gerard’s bed, Kellin reaches over and grabs a tissue. “Here. You okay?”

Frank shrugs. “We don’t do this. I don’t know _how_ to do this, Kellin. We don’t fight. All our shit is on the outside and we deal with it together. Our issues make our relationship stronger. I can’t…I don’t know how to do this…”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” Kellin replies. “It’s not normal not to have fights, Frank. Couples fight. It happens. You gotta deal with it.”

Frank shakes his head. “Gee and I don’t. He knows what I need and I know what pisses him off and we just…base things off that? Like I know what he hates and I don’t do that shit, and he knows when I need space or when I need cuddles, he _knows_.” His voice breaks. “I don’t think I’m ever gonna meet someone who knows me as well as Gee does.”

His eyes are glassy. Kellin feels for him, he really does. It can’t be easy. But he’ll never understand exactly what Frank’s going through because he and Vic have been through their fair share of fights, from petty arguments to life or death bullshit. It’s what he’s used to. They fight like hell but at the end of the day, they always come back to each other. He feels the same way about Vic that Frank does Gerard even with the fights they’ve had to go through to get there.

“How’d you guys meet?” Kellin asks. The purpose is two-fold and he’s proud of himself for being that clever. Part of him was aiming to distract Frank and get him talking about the good times, and the other part is genuinely curious. Frank doesn’t talk about his past much and Gerard says even less.

“We both got here the same day, a couple years ago,” Frank says, looking down at his lap. A small smile has begun to make its way onto his face. “I heard him blasting The Misfits and went into his room and…I guess things kinda took off? He made me feel safe. And like.” His voice cracks. “I was bullied, like, real fuckin’ bad, before I came here. He made me feel safe and loved and he kissed me a lot and kinda became my, um, protector, in a way? It sounds stupid but…” He trails off, smile dropping from his face. “He saved me. And even thinking about him cheating makes me wanna shoot myself. I don’t know how to live without him.”

…

“I know I’m the last person you wanna see right now, but I needa say this.” 

Jack sits down next to Alex at the dinner table nervously. He’s been avoiding him all day, making clever use of Awsten as a buffer whenever they were forced to be in the same room. He didn’t want to do this in public, air their dirty laundry out for everyone to see, but there’s no other option. 

He needs to make things right with Alex. 

“My, um, my eating issues are kinda…” He stumbles around the words awkwardly. He’s walking a fine line between explaining himself and revealing too much. He needs Alex to know the truth, but he also doesn’t want to scare him off. “Everyone knows not to get into it because they get what you got. I just…don’t like talkin’ about myself, y’know? Don’t like all the attention. Makes me kinda uncomfortable. And my thing…it’s a lot,” he concludes. “It’s a lot and I don’t like talkin’ about it so when I’m forced to I’m a dick and I’m really sorry you had to deal with it.” 

The words tumble out in one breath, and he’s panting by the end, looking desperately into Alex’s eyes for a sign of understanding, forgiveness, _something_. He’s grasping at straws but he doesn’t care.

Alex’s eyes crinkle as the smile stretches across his face, and Jack lets out a breath he feels like he’s been holding for the past two days. “It’s all good. I’m sorry, for not knowing. I should’ve picked up on it.”

Jack rolls his eyes. “Bull. How were you-”

He cuts himself off with a gulp as Quinn sets a plate down in front of him; one medium sized piece of grilled chicken, a scoop of mashed potatoes, and some steamed vegetables. 

“If you can get down the chicken, half the potatoes, and make at least a dent in the veggies, I’ll be over the moon, alright kid?” Quinn says gently, patting his shoulder. She sets another plate down in front of Alex. It contains the same thing, just a significantly larger portion of each. 

Alex picks up his fork and digs in immediately, but Jack just stares. He feels hot, sweaty and dizzy staring at the food. The odor is pungent, infiltrating his nostrils. It smells so good.

“C’mon Jay,” Alex says, resting a hand on his back. “You got this. Take it one bite at a time, okay?”

Jack bites his lip and picks up his fork and knife. He cuts a tiny piece of chicken and brings it up to his mouth with shaking hands, turning the fork around in his hand. There are tears welling in his eyes and it’s so fucking frustrating because how much of a fucking baby do you have to be to cry over food?

Seeing Alex’s encouraging smile has him shoving the fork into his mouth. The nausea he’s been anticipating doesn’t come. The chicken is perfectly flavored, juicy on his tongue. His taste buds are singing in delight.

He stabs another piece of chicken, and another, and another, until the chicken is gone and so are the potatoes and most of the veggies. It happened so fast, like he was in a trance. The food was there and then it wasn’t. 

He finished a meal.

He ate _more_ than he was told to.

He _finished_ a meal.

The feeling of accomplishment outweighs the guilt. Even though the food is sitting heavily at the pit of his stomach and he’ll be in hell later, in this moment, he’s never felt so free.

Alex’s grin matches his. “I knew you could do it, Jack. I’m so fuckin’ proud of you.”

And then, before Jack has the time to get a word in edgewise, Alex is leaning over and kissing him. 

Jack pulls away in shock. Alex’s expression is a mixture of fear and confusion. He doesn’t know what’s going on. “Lex, what’s- what _was_ that?”

Alex doesn’t meet his eyes. "I, um. I really like you, Jack."

Jack's face falls. "Oh c'mon Lex, don't do that. Don't complicate shit with feelings. We got something good goin', don't ruin it."

Alex’s smile fades and Jack watches as he scrambles up and rushes away from the table, leaving Jack alone for the second time in less than a week, forced to re-examine the events that just took place and wonder what the fuck he just did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...so um, yeah. It was kinda in the summary though, so you can't be too surprised. Before you all come at me with pitchforks, this was never supposed to be a story about Alex meeting Jack and falling for him and finding out his feelings are reciprocated and them living happily ever after. They both have pasts, they both have a ton of emotional baggage and mental health issues that play a huge role in everything, including their relationships. Mental illness doesn't go away and love isn't a cure This is meant to be realistic and things working out perfectly just...isn't, not with the backstories I've created for them. Things _will_ be explained in the next couple chapters, I promise. Bear with me, okay? Those of you who've read my work for a long time know that I'm a big fan of happy endings. :P
> 
> Next chapter, aftermath, aftermath, aftermath. It's a doozy. And you get to learn a little bit about Geoff's past through a really cute Gawsten scene to make up for all the angst, if that helps. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings - self-harm, depression, suicidal thoughts, anxiety, panic attacks, and PTSD.

“So then Zack took me to this little carnival in town and- Lex? Are you even listening?”

Alex lifts his head to meet Rian’s eyes, hoping the silent gesture will get his point across because he’s really not in the mood to formulate words. He invited Rian over so he wouldn’t have to sit in silence, not anticipating Rian’s only point of conversation being his boyfriend. 

Hearing about someone’s love life when his own has been smashed to smithereens? It’d be less painful if Rian took a knife and stabbed him in the chest.

On second thought, it’d _definitely_ be less painful and Alex would even thank him because that would probably kill him and that’s exactly what he wants.

It’s been about a week since what Alex has dubbed ‘the incident’ in his head. It hurts to think about. It hurts to remember. It hurts to speculate on.

It just hurts.

There’s a constant ache in his chest and his head hasn’t stopped pounding and he feels like he’s cried himself dry three times over. He barely has a voice left and his throat feels raw. 

He doesn’t sleep. The little rest he does get is wracked with nightmares. It’s nothing new but the dreams are worse, sharp with jagged edges, almost always involving Jack coming after him wielding some kind of weapon and hacking away at his body until he’s reduced to nothing. 

That’s what it feels like he’s done emotionally.

He’s officially run out of space on his arms.

Cutting his thighs is a different experience. The skin is fresh, baby-soft and unmarred by previous scars. It’s like a blank canvas begging to be painted. The crimson liquid stands out against pale skin and the contrast is beautiful. 

“…Alex! What the hell is going on?”

Alex jumps slightly, startled out of his thoughts, finding himself face to face with a very concerned Rian. “Nothin’, sorry. Zoned out.”

“You’ve been out of it all week,” Rian points out. “Is everything okay? Did something happen?”

“I’m fine, Ri.” He doesn’t want Rian involved. He doesn’t want him going after Jack, beating him up or yelling at him in front of everyone or something worse. It’s not Jack’s fault he doesn’t feel the same way and it’s _definitely_ not his fault that Alex can’t handle the truth. He doesn’t deserve to feel guilty about something he didn’t even do, which is exactly what would happen if Rian found out. 

“No you’re not,” Rian replies. “What happened? Who do I needa kill?”

“No one.” Alex bites the words, glaring at him. “I’m fuckin’ fine, okay? Drop it.”

“I know you, Lex,” Rian says. “I know when somethin’s up. You’ve been quiet all week. We don’t do this one word answer bullshit, Alex. You know that. All you’re doing is making me more suspicious so you may as well own up. What happened?”

“ _Nothing_!” Alex snaps, getting to his feet. “Nothing fuckin’ happened! I’m allowed to have a bad day once in a while! It’s not the end of the damn world! M’not your fuckin’ responsibility; you don’t havta take care of me anymore. So why don’t you do me a fuckin’ favor and stay out of my damn business?”

…

“What the _hell_ did you _do_ to him?”

Jack flinches.

He knew this was coming, but nothing could’ve prepared him for how bad it truly is. The anticipation doesn’t hold a candle to reality. 

Rian could kill him.

His eyes are dark and his chest is puffed out. He’s glaring at Jack with the biggest scowl on his face and his fists are clenched. 

Jack squirms uncomfortably, looking around the game room at all the eyes that are on him. He can’t do this here. He’s not sure whom Alex told, but he hasn’t told anyone, not even Zack.

That explains Zack’s look of shock and confusion. 

“Whoa.” Zack stands and takes a step forward, putting his hands on Rian’s shoulders. “Ri, what’s goin’ on…?”

“Ask _him_.” Rian spits the words out. Jack brings his knees up to his chest and buries his face in them. 

He can’t breathe.

He can’t breathe under the weight of Rian’s anger and Zack’s confusion and his own guilt. It’s all pressing down on him, pushing him to the floor, knocking him down and laughing as he shakes and cries and tries not to let it break him completely.

“Fuck.” Hands press to his shoulders and run through his hair. Their touches burn his skin and he trembles, trying to get away while staying curled in his ball. 

_They’remadtheyhateyouthey’regonnagoZack’sgonnaleavethey’reallgonnaleaveyou’realone_.

“Shut up!” He screams, gripping strands of hair and pulling. He wishes he had a blade with him because that’d be easier than ripping his hair out.

Someone’s talking to him but he can’t understand any of it. It’s all a blur, a mess of fuddled noise that sounds comforting but he’s too far gone to hear it. 

The panic is overwhelming. He feels like he’s been trapped in a box and the walls are closing in. It’s suffocating. His skin is burning and he feels hot, too hot. He’s sweating or maybe he’s crying, he doesn’t really know. Everything is blurring together and he’s starting to see spots.

The spots combine to form one, a tidal wave of black washing over him.

He doesn’t fight it.

…

“Would someone like to tell us what the _hell_ is going on?”

Alex draws his arms into his body and keeps his head down, staring at the floor. After Jack passed out, Jordan and Quinn herded everyone into the basement (Zack and Rian included) for a family meeting.

“I have no idea.”

“No clue.”

“Fuck if I know.”

“It’s between Alex and Jack, why’re you asking us?”

“I’ve got one kid on the verge of a breakdown and one practically living at the hospital,” Quinn says steely. “And now one who just had a panic attack and passed out. Whatever you know, out with it.”

“Alex.” Awsten’s voice is barely audible. “You havta tell them…”

Alex doesn’t move. This is his fault. He’s caused such a mess, all because of his stupid feelings.

He doesn’t hate Jack. He can’t. It’s not his fault. He was being honest and it’s Alex’s fault he couldn’t handle it. Jack didn’t do anything wrong. He’s pissed at Rian for making him think he did, but then again, Rian didn’t know either. This whole thing is a huge misunderstanding that never would’ve happened if he weren’t such a weak ass coward.

He’s walking a fine line between being relieved that Jack knows because he can stop pining and regretting confessing his feelings because his bubble has officially been popped. He was right; rejection _is_ a bitch and he’s too much of a baby to handle it. He thought he was prepared but he wasn’t.

More than anything, his friendship with Jack is officially ruined. That’s what really hurts. He’s gotten comfortable. Cuddling with Jack, hugs when he doesn’t feel good, hands in his hair and kisses to his forehead…it was too good to be true and he knows it. He got comfortable, let his guard down, opened up, only to fuck it all up and lose the one reason he’s gotten this far.

“Alex.”

“He rejected me, okay?” Alex chokes out. The words hurt to get out. His voice is ruined from crying. Quinn’s expression morphs into sympathy and he turns away, pointedly avoiding eye contact as he gets to his feet and makes his way over to the stairs.

He hears her calling for him but he can’t stop. He doesn’t want pity. 

It’s just one more fuck up on the long list that is his life.

…

“Hey love.”

Awsten pushes his head into the hollow between Geoff’s neck and shoulder, closing his eyes and breathing in. “Hi.”

Geoff’s arm snakes around his waist and he lets him pull him onto his lap, shifting to rest his head in Geoff’s other shoulder. “How’s Alex?”

Awsten sighs. “I dunno. He’s not talking. Ash’s with him, said he’d watch him tonight, make sure he doesn’t do anything.”

“We all knew,” Geoff mutters. “Dunno how Jack didn’t. Alex made it so fuckin’ obvious.”

“It just sucks, y’know?” Awsten replies. “Like, they were helpin’ each other… Alex got him to eat a full meal. I think it’s the first one he’s eaten in _months_. And he gives Lex an outlet that isn’t a blade. And now that’s gone…”

“Jack likes him,” Geoff tells him. He wraps his arms around Awsten’s waist and brushes his lips against his cheek. “He’s just scared.”

“They need each other,” Awsten agrees. “They just don’t wanna admit it. Having a boyfriend is fuckin’ amazing though. I don’t get why. What the hell’s there to be scared of? It’s not like things are gonna change much. They already act like a couple.”

“Relationships are scary, Awsie.” Awsten feels the tense in Geoff’s muscles before he hears the tears in his voice. He lifts his head and leans down, pecking Geoff’s lips. “I was so scared to ask you out, you have no idea…”

“What, did you think I’d say no?” Awsten rolls his eyes. He wasn’t subtle. From the moment Geoff walked through the front door for the first time, Awsten was smitten. There was just something about his eyes, shining with an underlying darkness. Geoff had secrets, a past, baggage, dark parts of him that intrigued him. 

“I thought I wouldn’t be able to do it.” Geoff’s voice is heavy and his gaze is on the floor. Awsten can see a watery film over his eyes. An ache is spreading through his chest and all over his body. When Geoff hurts, he hurts. Seeing his boyfriend upset causes him physical pain. “I thought I was too messed up, too dirty…I didn’t think you’d want someone all used up like me.”

Awsten leans in again, pressing his lips to the corners of Geoff’s eyes where the tears have started to form. Geoff’s past was a lot to take in, but not for a second did he not want him because of it. The thought didn’t ever cross his mind. “Your past doesn’t define you,” he reminds softly, stroking Geoff’s cheek. “And it doesn’t change how much I love you.”

“No, I know, it’s just.” Geoff swipes angrily at his eyes. “Some days it’s a lot. There are so many things we can’t do because of me and I hate it.”

“We can’t have sex,” Awsten corrects gently. Geoff flinches at the word. “And that’s okay, Geoff. I don’t want to either. And even if I did, knowing you’re this uncomfortable would change my mind. You’re allowed to not want it, baby. A relationship isn’t defined by it.”

“You don’t havta lie for me,” Geoff mumbles thickly. “It’s important.”

“For other people,” Awsten replies. “Not us. And besides…I’m not lying…” He trails off, biting his lip. “They did shit, in the camp…to associate sex with sin and pain and everything horrible. I don’t want it either. Every time I think about it I’m back there.”

The memories hurt to bring up but the concentration isn’t his pain. Geoff’s pain is the biggest thing in the room and Awsten refuses to steal his thunder. What happened to him in the camp was horrifying, but it’s over and he’s safe with his _boyfriend_ who loves him enough to shut down every homophobe who worked there. 

Geoff must’ve picked up on his discomfort because he lifts his head and presses his lips to Awsten’s forehead. Awsten closes his eyes, scooting impossibly closer. This is what he lives for. Nights like these, when he feels so close to Geoff, so intimate. They don’t have to have sex to have intimacy.

“It’s late.” Awsten nudges Geoff’s chest and pushes him onto the bed, curling right back up with him. Usually he’s the one curling into Geoff’s arms, but his boy needs a little extra love tonight. He opens his arms and Geoff scoots up and into them, pushing his face into Awsten’s chest. Awsten smiles and kisses the top of his head. 

“Not gonna sleep tonight.”

Those four words are heartbreaking and the worst part is how well Geoff knows himself. He knows his disorder; he knows that talking about the skeletons is going to make them come out of the closet in his dreams. 

“Then we’ll both be tired tomorrow.” He tries for a joke and presses another kiss to Geoff’s head. “I love you, Gee. Forever. Never forget that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? I know it looks bleak right now, but things _will_ get better, I promise. I'm glad you guys see where I'm coming from with Jack rejecting Alex. The next chapter explains it a lot more, Quinn and Jack have a conversation about everything, Zack tells Alex a little about Jack's past, and Gerard and Vic have major breakthroughs. The more comments, the quicker you get the chapter.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings - self-harm, depression, anxiety, panic attacks, and mentions of eating disorders.

“Oh, kid…”

Jack looks up in horror. The racing heart and cold feeling are back. He glances from his bleeding arm to Quinn’s pained expression nervously. He doesn’t know what to do. He can’t lie his way out of this. 

She knows. 

She _knows_.

His last secret, the one thing he had for himself, is now gone. 

The bed dips and Quinn meets his eyes. 

“Jacko,” She sighs. She reaches for a tissue from the box on his nightstand and presses it firmly against the wound, looking up at him again. “What’s going on with you, babe? Talk to me.”

“I, um,” Jack stutters. He can’t lie to her. He doesn’t call her mama because it’s cute; she’s the only mother figure he’s ever known (other than Jordan). Disappointing her hurts just as much as he imagines disappointing his biological mother would. 

He’s already done that though, by being born.

“I ruined everything,” he confesses thickly, staring down at his bedspread. He bites his lip and forces himself to swallow against the sob bubbling up his throat.

“What are you talking about, kiddo?” Quinn pulls the tissue away from his arm and reaches into one of the drawers in his nightstand. She produces an ace bandage and sets to work. “So you won’t be tempted.”

“With Alex,” Jack chokes out. The words hurt to get out. Saying them out loud has his stomach turning. “He hates me. And so does Rian. And Rian’s dating Zack so he’ll get Zack to hate me and he’ll turn the entire house against me and I’ll be all alone they’ll leave and I’ll be all alone!”

The words tumble out in one breath and he’s panting by the end, a hand on his rib cage. His chest is tightening, frighteningly so. He’s only had one real panic attack before, but its trauma gave him more insight than he’s ever wanted on the signs and symptoms. He’s getting pretty close.

“Whoa, babe. Don’t panic on me. You gotta breathe, okay?” Quinn grabs his face and looks him straight in the eye. “You’re okay. Just take some deep breaths.”

He’s never had to stop a panic attack before it gets bad, but then again, he hasn’t had many panic attacks to stop. He follows Quinn’s breathing shakily, inhaling too fast and coughing painfully. It takes a good five minutes to get his breath back. He’s exhausted and his chest hurts but there’s an underlying feeling of accomplishment because he would’ve just let the panic overtake him but he pushed through.

“You okay?” Quinn presses a kiss to his forehead and thumbs tears off his cheeks, smiling at him. 

“Y-Yeah…” He mumbles tiredly. “Sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Quinn tells him. Her eyes soften. “You really care about him, don’t you?”

He swallows hard, refusing to meet her eyes. “Don’t.”

“Jack, there’s nothing wrong with admitting that,” Quinn murmurs. “Listen sweetheart, I know you’ve been through hell in the past few years, but it’s over now. You’re here, to stay, and Alex…between you and me, he’s here to stay too.”

“I can’t,” Jack grounds out. “Please.”

He can’t do this. He can’t be Alex’s perfect little boyfriend. He can’t care about another person right now. He doesn’t care about himself. He doesn’t have the energy to. Adding a romantic relationship, one that’s dependent on love and affection…he’s not up to it and he’d rather hurt Alex by saying no than agree to start something and disappoint him because he’s not what Alex thought he was.

Quinn sighs. “What are you scared of, kid? Tell me so I can tell you it’s bull.”

“It’s not though!” Jack snaps, pulling away from her. “Everyone wants us to get together so bad, they don’t see that we’d be _awful_ together! I can barely take care of myself, what the hell makes you think I can take care of someone else? And you say it’s permanent but you don’t know.” His voice cracks. “You don’t fucking _know_. Nothing is permanent, none of us have control, it’s someone else’s world and we’re just living in it. He’s gonna hurt me, I’m gonna hurt him, it’s gonna end bad, and he _can’t_ be another person who hurts me. Not him. It’s easier this way, don’t you get that? Stop it before it starts and no one gets hurt.”

…

“It’s not because he doesn’t like you.”

Alex freezes.

He looks up from his notebook and swallows back a gulp at the person standing in the doorway. “W-What?”

Zack crosses his arms over his chest. He’s not smiling but he doesn’t look murderous either, which, considering the size of his muscles and his ability to easily snap Alex like a twig, is a relief. “He didn’t say no because he doesn’t like you, Alex.” He crosses the room and sits down on Ashton’s bed.

“I don’t…I don’t understand…” He knows Rian’s talked to Jack before, and from the way he confronted him…Alex isn’t sure why Zack’s being so calm about this. Rian was ready to kill. “Why don’t you hate me?”

Zack shrugs. “Have you given me a reason to?”

“Jack’s a mess,” Alex chokes out. The words feel thick and foreign around his tongue. As much as Jack’s rejection hurt him, he still cares about him, just as much, if not even more than he did before. He still has so much love for him. Jack’s pain hurts him too. He’d gladly take it all if it meant Jack would live a life free from it. “He’s a mess and it’s my fault.”

“Rian was right.” Zack is shaking his head. “Goddamn, Alex. _He_ rejected _you_ and you’re blaming yourself for his shitty episode? It’s not your fault, that’s bullshit.”

“I’m being a baby.” He can feel his throat closing up. It’s getting harder to talk without crying. “If I wasn’t taking it so shitty he’d feel better about it.”

“So…lemme see if I get what you’re saying,” Zack says slowly. “His reaction to your reaction is your fault?” He chuckles. “Do you even _realize_ how messed up that sounds? Alex, none of this is your fault. I didn’t come here to yell at you. I came to explain.”

“Explain?”

Zack sighs. “Jack, god I fuckin’ love him, but he’s so shitty at talking about himself. He’s so fuckin’ shitty at focusing on himself because he’s too busy with everything and everyone around him. It’s like he’s making up things to be busy with because he doesn’t want to think about his problems.”

“Wh-What do you mean?” The panic is slowly starting to ease. Maybe he’ll get some of the answers he’s been craving since he met Jack. He would’ve rather they came from Jack himself, but if he’s so against talking about himself, Zack is the next best thing.

“He doesn’t care, Alex. He doesn’t care about himself anymore. He doesn’t like the attention, doesn’t think he deserves it...” Zack sighs. “I know what you and everyone here think of him, but you gotta understand that it’s an act. He’s really good at that. Putting on a smile when he’s dying inside? You’d never know. He’s so fucked up but it doesn’t seem that way because he keeps burying shit.”

That hurts. All of this hurts. He’s fallen so hard for Jack and the realization of how truly little he cares for himself is a punch to the stomach. On the bright side, he’s starting to understand things a little more. Jack rejected him for a reason. And it’s not because he thinks there’s something wrong with him.

“Jack was left here as a baby,” Zack tells him. “He was an accident. His mom left him on the doorstep because she didn’t want a kid. Jordan and Quinn took him in, they raised him for a bit, but the state kept taking him away, sending him to foster home after foster home. And-” He cuts himself off with a ragged breath, a crack in what seems to be a stoic demeanor. “The homes they put him in weren’t good. The foster care system is so fucked up…it just…it wasn’t good.”

He doesn’t need to say it. Alex knows what he’s trying to get out. The thought makes his stomach turn. “How…how bad was it?”

“It’s the reason he has an eating disorder,” Zack replies gravely. “Some people starved him. Said they couldn’t afford to feed him, when they were spending whatever the government gave them on booze. That’s why so many fucked up people become foster parents, the money. They take it and leave the kids with nothing.” His voice is a mix of anger and pain. He’s not nearly as vocal as Rian about his feelings, but he doesn’t have to be. His actions say everything.

“So he rejected me because…”

“Because he’s been hurt too many times,” Zack says. “Too many people have broken promises, left him, fucked him up, and he’s done. He’s done letting himself be hurt. Jordan and Quinn had to fight like hell to keep him here until he ages out. He’s just waiting until he’s an adult so he can finally have some control. He doesn’t want to get adopted either. My parents wanted to…” Zack’s gaze drops to his lap. “He said no. We didn’t talk for two weeks.”

“Holy shit…”

“He’s my brother.” Zack’s voice is thick. “Maybe not legally or by blood, but he’s my fuckin’ brother. And trust me, it kills me as much as it kills you to see him in pain. But too many people have hurt him. He’s just trying to protect himself. It sucks that he had to hurt you to do that, but…” He shakes his head. “I can’t blame him. I really can’t.”

…

He stares at his laptop screen.

He’s read the words five, ten times over, but they’re not registering. It hasn’t hit him yet and he’s not sure it ever will, not until it actually happens and his brother is physically in his arms.

“Mikey,” he breathes, reaching out to touch the screen with the pad of his finger. The address is for the next town over, not even twenty minutes away. The realization weighs heavily in his stomach.

Mikey’s been here. All along, his brother’s been right under his nose, and it took him until now to find him. It took him until now to figure it out. He’s torn between wanting to jump for joy and wanting to curl up in the smallest ball because if Vic hadn’t brought this up he may never have found his brother.

He was right there, right fucking _there_ , and he would’ve gone his entire life not having found him.

Gerard swallows and clicks the button to show more details.

It shows the family Mikey was adopted by and gives a little more information about them. From what he’s reading, they seem like really great people. The picture is tiny but speaks volumes.

One of the guys is carrying the other one piggyback style. They’re both laughing, staring straight into the camera with the biggest grins on their faces. It looks like something out of a fairy tale. Of all the families Mikey could’ve gone to…of all the abusive and negligent families, he went to a gay couple.

Gay people aren’t always good parents, but in his experience they tend to be more accepting. Having dealt with oppression, they know what it feels like and turn past trauma into openness and tolerance. Adoption is a gift because many of them can’t have biological kids. Surrogates are expensive.

The combination of euphoria and guilt is overwhelming. He’s feeling so many things at once. He doesn’t know how to deal with any of it. 

He needs to go to him. He needs to go, find that house, find Mikey, give him the biggest hug of his entire life and never let go, and then maybe thank the guys who adopted him because they’ve given his brother everything he couldn’t.

“Gerard! You’re never gonna believe this!”

Vic rushes into the room with a grin on his face wide enough to match Gerard’s. He starts talking before Gerard has a chance to intercept him, speaking so fast Gerard has to strain to keep up. “I had this like, flashback? I dunno, it was so fucking weird but, I remembered something! I remembered where the gang last hid out and I know what their name is and they’re not far from here, we needa-”

“I found Mikey.” Gerard cuts him off. Tears are streaming down his face as he gazes steadily at Vic. Vic’s not crying but he’s close. His eyes are glassy, he doesn’t have long. A tear breaks from the barrier when he speaks, and then he folds completely, crying freely. 

“I found Mike.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Jack is trying, he really is, but he has a lot of issues to work through before he can even consider a relationship. I hope you guys get where he's coming from. Next chapter, Brendon visits Ryan and reveals how badly things have affected him, and Frank hits a breaking point...it's really not good. The more feedback I get, the quicker you get the chapter.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are amazing. That's all I have to say.
> 
> Trigger warnings - self-harm, depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts, and suicide. This one's really heavy, guys. Be careful.

It’s been two weeks. 

Two goddamn motherfucking weeks of Gerard and Vic looking cozy as shit. They’re not even trying to be subtle about it. Gerard has his head permanently in the clouds. Frank talks and he doesn’t listen. He tries to cuddle and Gerard pushes him away with a shitty excuse. Gerard usually comes to his room at night and he hasn’t in days.

He can’t keep doing this.

“What?”

Frank looks up in surprise. He just said that aloud. Shit. Kellin’s looking at him worriedly and he can’t lie to him. Not about this. Not when he’s in the same boat. “I, um…” He exhales. “I can’t live like this anymore, Kellin.”

“Frank.” Kellin grabs his shoulders and forces him to look him in the eye. “You’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking.”

“Well I don’t know what the fuck you’re thinking, but I think I needa be alone,” Frank mutters, wrenching his body out of Kellin’s grip. He turns away, not wanting to see the look in Kellin’s eyes. He can’t take the puppy dog eyes full of heartbreak. He can’t take any more guilt trips.

He’s doing this, for himself. He’s done being ashamed of it.

“This is gonna break him, y’know.”

He whips around. The icy feeling is spreading through his chest and all over his body. “Don’t.”

Kellin shrugs. “You told me how much you love him, don’t you think he loves you just as much? And if you love him as much as you say you do, are you ready to be the person who destroys him?”

“Stop it,” Frank growls. “Stop tryna guilt me outta it.”

Kellin holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m jus’ saying. I couldn’t do it. I could never hurt Vic like that.”

“He’s _cheating_ on you!” Frank screams. The tears come before he knows what’s happening, and he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to breathe against the wall of emotion crushing his chest. “They’re cheating on us, don’t you get it?”

“We don’t know that,” Kellin reminds him gently. “We don’t know for sure. What if they’re not?”

“Don’t give me that!” Frank shoots back. “ _You_ were the one who convinced me to get in on this bullshit! You didn’t trust Vic! I _trusted_ Gerard!”

Kellin nods. “You’re right. But Vic comes to my room every night to hold me and tell me he loves me. And he’s been doin’ it since before this whole thing with Gerard happened. Nothing’s changed. He’s not different. So I think I can trust him. I love him. What’s a relationship without trust?”

“I don’t know,” Frank says hollowly. “You convinced me it’s not everything.”

…

Thanksgiving is a week away.

Thanksgiving, the time of being grateful and eating a ton of food and surrounding yourself with the people you love and love you, is a week away. Thanksgiving is a week away and his boyfriend, the closest thing he has to a real family, is in a coma.

He bites his lip and looks down at his arm. “If you could see this.” A humorless chuckle escapes and his throat burns. “You’d be so disappointed, fuck.”

Ryan hasn’t shown any signs of waking up and he’s been in a coma for almost three weeks. It’s risky, cutting in his hospital room. He could wake up at any second and it’d go down in history as one of the worst ways to wake up. 

Brendon knows he should care, but he doesn’t.

He drags the blade across his wrist again, teary-eyed and aching as he looks up at Ryan. “How crazy would it be if you woke up right now? How fucking insane.”

He finally understands. 

He understands what Alex and Frank and Gerard and Vic and Awsten and Michael and Ashton have said about self-harm. He never got it before. Taking a blade to your skin to feel better? It sounded messed up.

It’s the only thing keeping him from going completely off the deep end. 

He’s not strong enough to deal with this by himself. He’s not strong enough to put on a smile and hold Ryan’s hand, spout the bullshit about how much he loves him and needs him to wake up. He’s never been the strong one and he can’t start now. He wishes he could be better but he isn’t.

He needs to hurt. There’s so much pain, overwhelming, crashing into him like a tidal wave. It comes in ebbs and flows; some days he walks into Ryan’s room and immediately has to leave to empty his stomach and other days he’s just numb, staring at his boyfriend’s limp body with a resounding ache in his chest.

There needs to be an outlet, a way for him to let out his anguish, and he’s found it in tearing flesh and seeing red and ripping himself apart physically the way he feels emotionally.

He doesn’t want to live like this. He’s never imagined living in a world where Ryan isn’t. The thought is nauseating. He tries not to think about it because every time he does he feels his stomach come up his throat and he’s barely eating to begin with.

Everyone’s been great. They sit with him at meals and make sure he eats and it gets annoying after a while but he knows they’re doing it because they care. Someone either sleeps in his room with him or he goes to one of their rooms, which is nice, knowing there’s someone else there, but a punch to the stomach when he sees Pete and Patrick cuddled together and realizes he may never get to do that again. 

If he’d known the days he spent with Ryan would’ve possibly been his last he would’ve savored them. Drank them in, memorized them, let himself be stupid and happy because life can turn upside down within a second and he has absolutely no control. It’s the universe’s world and he’s just living in it, he doesn’t control what happens to him, he doesn’t control who leaves and who stays, he doesn’t control anything and he especially won’t get to control whether Ryan lives or dies.

Ryan could leave him any day now and he has no say in it and the thought is too much so he drags the blade over his wrist once more, pressing harder and going deeper and wondering whether stopping the blood is even worth it anymore.

…

Fuck Kellin.

Fuck him and his stupid ass guilt trips.

He’s done with it. He’s done with all of it. He’s done with being strung along, being played with like a stupid doll and then being expected to be okay with it. Even if Gerard and Vic _aren’t_ cheating, there’s _something_ going on, something Gerard couldn’t have been bothered to even mention to him. It’s clearly important to him if it’s taking up so much of his time and attention.

He’s not important enough to Gerard for him to confess the secret and that hurts. Vic’s probably told Kellin. The three of them are in on something, laughing at him like he’s the fucking village idiot because they’re omnipotent and he’s paranoid. Fuck them. Fucking assholes.

Vic holds Kellin and tells him he loves him every night. Just thinking about it has his stomach churning because Gerard used to do that. Every night he’d fall asleep on Gerard’s chest while he sketched and pressed repeated kisses to his head, professing his love. It was warm and he felt more safe and protected than he ever has but the truth is that they haven’t done that in almost two weeks. 

Gerard is always late coming to bed, and even when he does join him, he’s typing away on his laptop or scribbling furiously in a notebook, notes he’s making a valiant effort to hide. It may not be a secret lover, but Gerard is hiding something and he’s had enough.

What it all comes down to is his dependence. He relies on Gerard heavily, too heavily, in fact, for it to be considered healthy. He knows that. He knows that he’s clingy and overly attached and it’s a problem. He knows that he won’t always have Gerard right by his side and he needs to learn to just be Frank. 

It’s hard.

He went from having literally no one in his life that gave a rat’s ass about him to having a boyfriend who loves him unconditionally, so when Gerard started giving him the affection and love, he latched on. He clung and he clung hard because touch-starvation is the most painful thing a human being can go through and he never wants to be alone again.

Gerard helps him. Gerard helps him more than he can put into words. The soft touches and reminders of love and constant arm around his shoulders are all indications that he’s not alone, that he is loved, that he _has_ someone. It’s what he’s been missing his entire life. 

Gerard sits with him at meals and rubs his back when he can’t fall asleep at night and overall makes him feel like recovery is possible. He gives him the strength to fight every day, the courage to keep going on the darkest ones…Gerard means the absolute world to him. 

The distance is destroying him.

He’s turning a blade around in his fingertips with tears running down his cheeks and he can’t remember the last time he felt so low. Armed with a bottle of pills and multiple razors, he’s ready to go and not regretting anything.

If the last two weeks are any indication, Gerard won’t miss him. 

He lets his head fall back against the wall. A sob bubbles up his esophagus and he chokes on tears, squeezing his eyes shut.

He’s never been more done. 

Things were going downhill before any of this cheating bullshit. He was getting bad again and he knew it. But then Gerard and Vic started doing whatever they’re doing and he felt so ashamed of even thinking of going to Gerard with it. He has other problems, other things to worry about; he doesn’t need to deal with Frank’s rollercoaster depression. 

Imagining going to Gerard and hearing a dismissive, passive reply made his stomach turn. He couldn’t bear the thought. He couldn’t bear Gerard treating him like he wasn’t important. He’d rather not even try.

Gerard doesn’t need him and he doesn’t need to live. 

Swallowing the pills is the easy part. Easy, yet time consuming. It takes him all most five minutes to swallow the whole bottle, and that’s when the clock starts.

The blades are really for insurance. If the drugs don’t kill him, blood loss surely will. He only has a small window of time before the pills start to take effect, so he needs to act quickly. 

Part of him knows he should feel remorse and some regret, but he doesn’t. This is a good thing. He’ll be happier this way. He’ll be happier and Gerard can move on without the deadweight of his useless boyfriend dragging him down. He’s tired. Tired of being a burden, tired of wasting air when he doesn’t want to live, tired of trying to swim against a current that’s clearly winning.

His vision’s blurring together and he’s getting dizzy as he slides the blade down his forearm. The crimson wave is the last thing he remembers, red pooling on the bathroom floor and soaking into his jeans. It’s slippery against his fingertips, sort of sticky and warm. 

He’s bleeding out and he couldn’t be happier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I don't have anything to say for myself, honestly, except that I'm sorry. But you guys...reading your comments has made me so happy because my goal for this story was to make it relatable and raw and painful because that's life. I'm not trying to sugarcoat anything. I'm glad it's helped so many of you. Writing it has helped me. Your support has too, in more ways than you can imagine. I have _never_ , not in my eight years of writing fanfiction, updated a story as quickly as I do this one. And that's all because you guys give me so much feedback and so much love and make me want to keep writing. Thank you.
> 
> Next chapter, aftermath. There's a lot of Kellic, Gerard reflecting on things, and Brendon dropping in to have a conversation with him that really reveals how far gone he is.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings - anxiety, suicide, panic attacks, and mentions of drug/alcohol abuse.

“Fuck!”

“Holy shit…”

“Call an ambulance!”

“Whatever you do, _don’t_ let Gerard anywhere near here. He doesn’t need to see this.”

Kellin’s head is spinning. He’s dizzy and his heart is racing and he feels sort of faint. He stumbles, wobbling shakily on his feet. He’s falling, falling helplessly, until a pair of arms catches him and tightens around his waist.

“Hey.” Vic’s breath is warm against his ear. “Breathe. It’s gonna be okay.”

“He-he tried…” Kellin stutters. He can’t stop shaking. “I don’t…I didn’t think he would, I didn’t.”

“You need to breathe,” Vic instructs gently. Kellin sucks in a breath too fast and chokes, coughing painfully. He presses a hand to his chest and squeezes his eyes shut.

“What the _fuck_ is going on?”

“No, you gotta stay back.” Kellin watches with lidded eyes as Pete body blocks Gerard from entering the bathroom, arms in the air. “You’re not goin’ in there.”

“I’ll go where I damn please,” Gerard snaps, stretching to see over Pete’s shoulder. ‘What the hell can’t I see- oh my god…” He wilts in a matter of seconds, paling. If it weren’t for Pete’s quick reflexes he would’ve collapsed to the ground. “That’s not… _Frankie_...” He wails Frank’s name with a cry.

Kellin turns away, turns his head into Vic’s chest and tries to breathe. This is too much. He can’t take it. 

“Someone get me more towels! The bleeding’s not stopping!”

Gerard lets out another wail. The guilt just keeps building and building, piling down on his shoulders heavily.

“No! Pete, let go of me! I needa to go, I needa be with him!”

“You can’t help him right now. Just let moms handle it.”

Gerard sinks to the floor, sobbing. 

_You knew he would do it._

_You could’ve done something._

_You could’ve stopped him_.

He hiccups painfully and lifts his head. Tears are burning at the corners of his eyes and his mouth feels dry. “This is all my fault.”

“What the hell are you talkin’ about?” Vic asks incredulously. “How is it your fault?”

“I…I knew…” Kellin chokes out. A sob tears up his throat and he squeezes his eyes shut in pain. “I knew he wanted to do it. I just didn’t…I didn’t think he’d actually go through with it, I didn’t-”

“You!” Gerard rounds on him, glaring. With the eyeliner running own his cheeks and the tears on his face and his red eyes, he looks terrifying. “You knew? You knew and you didn’t stop him? You didn’t _tell_ me? What the _fuck_ is wrong with you? He could die! Do you have any idea-”

“Stop.” Vic’s voice is steely calm. “I know you’re upset and goddamn, you have every right to be, but you’re not gonna take this out on Kellin. He feels guilty enough without you making it worse.”

“But he-”

“I don’t care,” Vic replies. “It’s over. We can’t change it. And blaming Kellin isn’t going to make it go away.”

…

“They got him just in time. Pumped his stomach, and now they’re gonna stitch him up. He’ll be here overnight for observation, but he’s gonna be fine.”

Vic breathes a sigh of relief. Kellin shifts in his arms and he feels a telltale drop of moisture soak into his shirt. He tightens his grip around Kellin’s waist and presses a kiss to the crown of his head. “It’s okay baby. He’s okay.”

“He almost wasn’t,” Kellin sobs. “He almost died and it’s my fault.”

“Kells…” Vic keeps one arm against Kellin’s back and uses the other to lift his head. “It’s not your fault. He was determined. You couldn’t have stopped him.”

“I got him into this mess,” Kellin says raggedly, his breath coming in pants. “He didn’t think you guys were cheating… I practically forced him…”

Vic freezes. “ _What_?” His heart has begun racing again. He searches Kellin’s face for an answer with wide, desperate eyes. “What the _fuck_ are you talking about?”

Kellin bites his lip. “I, um…you and Gerard have kinda…been spendin’ a lot of time together… He was worried, and then I kinda convinced him that it was a big deal, and I guess, he took it worse than me? You haven’t been different but apparently Gerard has and I promise I don’t think you were cheating I love you you’re perfect but he couldn’t get it outta his head, he and Gerard don’t fight and he couldn’t handle it and-”

“Whoa.” Vic tightens his hold on Kellin and kisses his hair. “Breathe, you’re okay. I’m not mad at you.”

He feels like a piece of his heart has been chipped away. Kellin thought he was _cheating_? Has he really been that distant? He was so preoccupied with the search for Mike that he didn’t even realize what it looked like. 

“I didn’t trust you,” Kellin whispers dejectedly. “Frank trusted Gerard. He didn’t wanna believe he could do something like that. But I didn’t…I wanted to look into it more because I didn’t trust you completely. I’m sorry…”

“That’s not your fault.” He’s hurt. He can’t be angry. He can’t be angry with Kellin for his feelings. It’s his fault for not giving him a reason to trust him. He and Gerard _did_ look really close; if their roles were reversed, he would’ve assumed the worst too. “It’s mine.”

“Vic, no…”

“Kells.” His voice breaks on the word. “It’s my fault. For not giving you a _reason_ to trust me. We _just_ got back together, and you see me all over some other guy? I don’t blame you for a fuckin’ second. I dunno how you got past it, I wouldn’t have.”

“You’re not different,” Kellin says. His voice is stronger, firm. “You cuddle with me every night and tell me you love me and give me kisses and that’s all I need. Gerard doesn’t do that, not anymore. I…I think Frank did it partly because he couldn’t handle Gerard cheating, but also because he’s been distant as fuck and he thought he didn’t want him anymore. Like, I dunno what you guys’ve been doin’, but whatever it is, it’s really distracting him.”

“We…” Vic sighs and rubs at the back of his neck. “We’ve been lookin’ for our brothers. Tryna see where they ended up and if we can get into contact with ‘em. We didn’t- didn’t wanna tell you guys and get your hopes up in case we didn’t find anything. That’s all it is, I promise. I know it looks bad but Gerard’s in love with Frank, and Kells, you’re my fuckin’ everything. It took me so long to get you back, I wouldn’t dare fuck it up by cheating.”

…

Frank hasn’t woken up yet.

He hasn’t been able to tear his eyes away. The sight is horrifying, the thought is nauseating…seeing his boyfriend so pale and small in the hospital bed hurts so much. He can’t focus on anything else. The pain is overwhelming, an ache in his chest that pulsates and throbs and gets worse as the minutes go by. 

He needs Frank to wake up.

He needs Frank to come back to him so he can spend the rest of his life telling him how sorry he is. Kellin told him everything, and now he’s trying to figure out when he got so stupid and caught up in his own problems with his head stuck so far up his ass he didn’t see that his boyfriend was falling apart.

He brings Frank’s hand up to his lips and closes his eyes. “Fuck Frankie, I’m so sorry…”

He doesn’t know how it happened. He doesn’t know how he got so selfish, how he so easily pushed Frank to the side, how the person who used to be his number one priority became a second thought. He was just so caught up in looking for Mikey. He’s missed so much. They’ve been separated for so long. The thought of being able to have his baby brother in his arms again was too good to resist. 

That’s still no excuse for hurting Frank the way he did. 

The fact that Frank thought he didn’t care…the thought makes him sick. What he feels for Frank is indescribable. Some call it love but he knows it’s more. He knows Frank is more. This is the boy he wants to spend the rest of his life with, adopt a bunch of punk ass kids with, grow old with…this boy is his future and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t make it known to the world.

Frank is everything anyone could’ve ever asked for. He’s lucky. He’s so fucking lucky to have the boyfriend he does, the one who cuddles with him every night and rubs his shoulders and massages his wrists because he knows the toll sketching takes on his hands and strokes his hair and talks him down from panic attacks and hasn’t run, no matter how dark and scary his past is. He’s told Frank a lot; the good, the bad, the disturbing, and he’s taken everything so much better than expected.

Any other person would’ve run for the hills, hearing about a raging Xanax addiction and the tendency to numb everything with alcohol. Any other person would’ve taken one look and decided it was too much. 

But not Frank.

He stayed. He held him through withdrawal and talked him down so many ledges and managed to separate ‘worried boyfriend’ and ‘overstepping parent’, which definitely couldn’t have been easy considering Gerard’s destructive tendencies. But he did it. 

He’s done so much and this is how Gerard is repaying him and the guilt is eating at him. 

“Oh shit.”

Gerard looks up in surprise at the voice. He hasn’t seen Brendon all day. He left for the hospital as soon as visiting hours started, and he usually stays all day. It’s been wearing on him. He’s gotten impossibly thinner in the past few weeks, complete with huge bags under his red eyes. He looks like he’s been through hell and back. Whatever Gerard’s going through with Frank, Brendon has it a hundred times worse.

“Moms told me,” Brendon continues, dropping down into the free chair. “I’m sorry, man.”

“Me too,” Gerard croaks. The words hurt. His voice is wrecked from crying. “How-How’s Ryan?”

Brendon shrugs. “No change. But I think they tell me that just ta shut me up. I’m always on ‘em about it.”

“I can’t… _this_ is too much for me, I honestly don’t know how you’re not dead by now,” Gerard admits.

Brendon’s chuckle is bitter. “Feels like I am. I really wish I was. But then again it’d probably go down in history as the worst way to wake up, finding out your boyfriend killed himself. Only reason I’m still here.”

“He’s gonna wake up.” He tries for optimism, but he sounds like shit and looks worse so it’s not at all convincing. It’s hard to be optimistic when things look this bleak. Ryan isn’t getting worse, but he’s not getting better either. It’s that limbo between life and death and it sounds absolutely terrifying. He can’t imagine how stressful and overwhelming it is. 

Brendon shakes his head and shoots him a sad smile. “Thanks, but life’s not like the movies. We don’t all get happy endings.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? I know things really aren't good, but I'm grateful you guys are sticking with me. It's gonna get better, I promise. Next chapter is slightly happier, if that helps things. Frank's fate is revealed, Vic sets out for the last place he saw the gang, and Jack and Alex talk for the first time since...well, everything. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings - depression, self-harm, suicide, anxiety, panic attacks, abuse, eating disorders, and mentions of rape.

“Gee? What’s- it didn’t work, did it?”

“Frankie,” he breathes. He surges forward and kisses him. The kiss is feverish, passionate and long, full of the feelings they’ve been repressing for the past couple weeks. “Oh thank god.”

Frank looks down at his lap when they pull away. “I’m sorry.”

“What the hell are you sorry for? _I’m_ the one who should be sorry.”

“I wanted it to work.” His voice breaks. He squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his fists. Gerard watches in disbelief. He’s beating himself up for – what, it not working? causing him pain? thinking of it in the first place? – he doesn’t know what’s going through Frank’s head. That’s the problem. He’s been so detached lately; he hasn’t even bothered to _talk_ to his boyfriend and see if he’s okay. That’s a sweet gesture in regular relationships, but it’s _vital_ in ones where one or both of the people are mentally ill. “I’m sorry it didn’t.”

“ _Frankie_ ,” he repeats. He gets to his feet and climbs onto the bed with Frank, careful not to disturb the IV. “You know how much I love you, right?”

He wouldn’t be surprised if Frank says no. He’s done a real shitty job of showing it lately. 

“Do you though?” Frank asks, pushing against his chest. Pushing him away. Gerard swallows. He knows he deserves the hurt but that doesn’t lessen the pain. “Do you love me? Because it doesn’t fuckin’ feel like it.”

“I-I…I know I’ve been distant. I just.” He stumbles over the words. His face feels hot and he’s shaking. Frank’s so mad at him all because he was trying to protect him and what if he’s fucked this up for good what if this tears them apart _whatifFrankdoesn’tlovehimanymore_.

“Are you cheating on me?”

He can’t breathe. He feels his throat closing up and his head hurts and his heart is racing and everything’s going wrong and he doesn’t know what to do. “I don’t, I… _what_? I’m not, _what_?”

Frank doesn’t look at him. “Are you cheating on me with Vic?”

“No!” He exclaims. He’s trying to force the panic down, force it away, hit pause, because the last thing Frank wants to do right now is comfort him. “No, of course not!”

“You two seemed pretty cozy,” Frank says quietly. He still won’t look at him. His voice is cracking all the over the place and he’s crying, Gerard knows that’s why he won’t look at him and it makes him want to crawl in a hole and never come out.

 _He_ did this. 

_He_ hurt Frank like this. 

_He_ pushed him to suicide. 

It’s his fault.

“We were looking for our brothers!” It comes out sounding desperate and he knows Frank can hear the tears in his voice. “We didn’t…didn’t wanna tell you and Kellin in case things didn’t work out. Didn’t wanna get your hopes up. We were looking for our brothers that’s all I swear we didn’t do anything I…” He’s rambling and Frank is staring at him in horror and the room is fucking spinning.

You can’t hit pause on a panic attack.

“Gee? Hey, breathe with me. It’s okay. You’re okay.” Frank’s hands travel to his back and he noses his way into the crook of his neck, pressing his lips into the junction of Gerard’s shoulder. “Everything’s okay.”

The panic attack isn’t bad. He’s had so much worse. He lets Frank do what he does best, lets himself be hugged and comforted, feels his breathing slow down and his heartbeat return to normal, buries his head in Frank’s shoulder and cries.

He lifts his head and blinks painfully. “Frank, I-”

“Don’t.” Frank pulls him back down and presses a kiss to his head. “It’s okay. We can talk about everything later. You needa rest.”

“But I-”

“I love you,” Frank whispers. “We’re okay.”

That’s all he needs to hear. They’re not fixed yet; this is just a band-aid over the bullet hole, but they’ll be okay. They are salvageable. They can be fixed. And that’s enough for him.

He closes his eyes and lets sleep take over.

…

“Hey, any word on Fran-”

Alex stops short, stomach sinking when he realizes the only person in the room is the last person he wants to see. “I, um, sorry.”

“Mom just called,” Jack tells him. “They’re bringing him home. On their way now.”

“Oh, um, that’s, um, g-good,” he stutters. His heart is racing and he feels shaky and sort of dizzy, like his legs won’t hold him for much longer. He’s done his best to avoid being in the same room as Jack. He runs to the table and scarfs down his meals like they’re his last, knowing Jack takes forever and wanting to avoid any semblance of awkward conversation. He knows it can’t be done forever, but it’s the best temporary fix he can come up with.

“Lex, can we talk?” Jack’s voice is timid. His gaze is flickering like he can’t decide whether or not to look at Alex.

Alex bites his lip and nods. He joins Jack on the couch, making sure to sit as far away as humanly possible. An accidental brush of hands is exactly what he doesn’t need right now. “W-what, um, what did you wanna…”

“Are you okay?” Jack asks. Alex follows his eyes to his wrists. “Like, really okay.”

“What do you want me to say?” Alex asks boldly. “That everything’s fine so you can stop feeling guilty? That’d make your life real fuckin’ easy wouldn’t it? Knowing you haven’t destroyed me?”

“ _Alex_.” Jack squeezes his eyes shut. 

He’s being harsh. He’s being way too harsh and the voice inside his head is screaming at him because he’s hurting but that doesn’t mean he needs to hurt Jack. Jack didn’t do anything wrong. 

“Alex, I’m sorry,” Jack continues, voice cracking. “I didn’t, I can’t, I don’t know how to…I’m so sorry…”

“Sorry for saying no or sorry it hurt me?”

“All of it,” Jack cries. “You don’t…you don’t want me, Lex. M’not…not good for you. M’not good for anyone. There’s too much- too much stuff, and I just, I can’t…we wouldn’t work. We’d hurt each other.”

Alex’s heart is breaking. It’s so hard to watch. Jack’s body is shaking with sobs. His head is buried in his knees and he’s curled far into himself, scooting back into the armrest of the couch. 

He didn’t mean for this. He didn’t mean to hurt Jack like this. He knows why Jack said no, he _knows_. But why was it so easy for Jack to put him in a category of people who are gonna hurt him? Why was it so easy for Jack to lose trust in him? Why was it so fucking easy for Jack to make the assumption that they’d hurt each other? He has no idea how their relationship would go because he doesn’t care to try.

“You don’t know that,” Alex points out. “You’re just fuckin’ guessing. We could be amazing.”

Jack lifts his head, and Alex wishes he weren’t staring straight at him. Looking away would be terrible, but Jack’s face is a sight for sore eyes. Red eyes with dark bags under them, messy hair, wet cheeks…he looks pitiful and Alex just wants to grab him in a hug and kiss his tears away.

“You slit your wrists because you can’t talk about what happened to you before you got here and the thought of eating anything makes me feel so guilty that I’d rather put a bullet in my brain,” Jack deadpans. “What part of you thinks we can have a relationship?”

…

“This is the place?”

“Last I remember it.”

“Are you _sure_ you don’t want me ta come?”

Vic swallows. He does. He wants Kellin with him. He wants the comfort, the love, the feeling of knowing he has a support system if everything falls apart. 

But this is something he needs to do on his own. This is his journey, his fight, his quest to find his long lost brother. It sounds like something out of a movie, guy goes on quest to reunite with his long lost brother and they have a picturesque reunion. 

Vic knows not to test his luck. He’s trying not to get his hopes up because he knows he won’t be able to handle the crash but it’s so fucking hard. Imagining the best case scenario is inevitable. 

“I needa do this on my own.” He’s barely gotten the words out before Kellin is kissing him, long and hard. His hands go to Vic’s waist and Vic wraps his arms around Kellin’s neck.

“I love you,” Kellin says simply. “And so does he. You don’t have anything ta worry about.”

“I wish I believed that.” Vic doesn’t meet his eyes. “Cover for me?”

Kellin nods. “Text me. People don’t usually spend hours at music stores.”

“You sure about that?” He teases, reaching for the car door handle. His hands are shaking as he climbs out of the vehicle. Kellin rolls down his window and blows a kiss out to him, mouthing another ‘I love you’. Vic smiles, pretending to catch the kiss and bringing it to his heart. 

He waits until he hears Kellin drive off before he starts across the parking lot. If Jordan and Quinn find out, he’s dead. He knows they’d let him see Mike, arrange it and everything, if he went to them, but this isn’t a cut and dry situation like Gerard has. This is complicated and messy and won’t be solved by a few pre-arranged meetings. Gang life is no joke. 

The hideout is behind a convenient store, past the large parking lot, among some deep woods, in the middle of nowhere. The wooded part of the forest is vast, opening up to become home to multiple gangs, all with hideouts in the vicinity. The location is ideal; not being too close that plans are overheard but being close enough to allow for quick deals and meetings with sellers fairly often. The store owner’s being paid a ton to keep quiet. 

He steps off the asphalt and onto grass and stops. He’s dizzy and the nausea is slowly creeping back and why the fuck does it feel like walls are closing in on him when he’s in the middle of a forest with no walls in sight. 

He’s not sure he’s gonna make it.

Pierce the Veil’s house is at the very back, completely secluded, covered in foliage. It’s so hidden that no one knows where it is, not unless escorted by a member of the gang. 

There are so many memories in that house.

Screams of terror and blood soaking into the carpet and hushed whispers and furious yelling and starving when it wasn’t safe to get food and huddling for warmth when they couldn’t pay the heating bill and walking up in muddled hazes with hangovers from every drug mixed together. 

He remembers the beatings, being slapped and whipped and having a beer bottle smashed over his head, he remembers having to chose between a shot of heroin or a baseball bat to the chest, he remembers the first time they beat Mike, holding his baby brother to his chest and kissing his hair, trying as best as his thirteen year old mind knew how to be mother and father because their actual mother and father were too high to know or even care what was going on.

“What the fuck do ya think you’re doin’? This is Pierce the Veil territory. No trespass- _Vic_?”

Vic stops short. “Jaime?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? A lot of stuff was revealed this chapter, and the next is packed with even more. A continuation of this scene, Gerard and Frank talk, and Zack (tries) to knock some sense into Jack about the whole Alex thing. The more feedback I get, the quicker you get the chapter.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning - anxiety, mentions of abuse, mentions of rape, suicide, and panic attacks.

Jaime grabs him and Vic lets his body go limp. He buries his face in Jaime’s shoulder and wraps his arms around his waist. 

“Fuck Vic, how longsit been? Five years? Lemme look at you, fuck. Y’look so good…”

Jaime steps back and holds him at arm’s length, and Vic laughs despite the tears running down his cheeks. “Your jacket’s ruined, sorry.”

Jaime rolls his eyes. “No big deal. There’ll be others.” He drops his gaze to the ground, kicking at a pebble. “Never was another you, though…”

Vic swallows. Jaime and Tony were the big brothers. The protectors. They had some influence in the gang but they were the only two with a semblance of humanity left. The only two who still looked at people as people and not drug-smuggling vessels. They moped up blood and wrapped bruises and stitched up skin and gave up any scraps of food they could find. There were days they didn’t eat so Vic and Mike could. They were the only ones who cared. 

“I’m sorry,” Vic ventures, biting his lip. “I-I just…I couldn’t do it anymore. It was too much. I needed…needed ta go…” 

The gang would probably be happy to know his life didn’t improve once he left. That terrible night, while that man was _in_ him…all he could think about was how much better off he’d have been if he stayed. Things were shitty at the hideout but anything was better than feeling so violated, so dirty and disgusting and used up. It took him so long to accept what happened to him. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be fully over it. 

“No, I’m so glad you did,” Jaime replies. “Vic, you don’t…things got really bad, after you left. They were pissed. We looked for you for weeks. They-” His voice breaks and Vic’s stomach sinks. “They wanted ta kill you, Vic. You…you betrayed us.”

It’s a punch to the stomach. It hurts so bad. He _knows_ , he’s known ever since that night what he did, but hearing Jaime say it makes it real and that pain is one of the worst he’s ever felt. There’s just so much of it, pressing down on him, overwhelming. “I didn’t go to the cops, I promise,” he says, holding his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t want you guys to get in trouble. I just needed out.”

“I don’t blame you,” Jaime mutters. “But Vic, you gotta understand…Mike…he’s-he’s not the same person he was when you left. Not even close.”

“Wh-What?” Vic’s voice catches in his throat. Jaime isn’t looking at him. Jaime’s eyes communicate his feelings and he isn’t fucking looking at him. How bad could it possibly be?

“You should see for yourself,” Jaime replies. He grabs his arm and fixes him with a cold stare. “Not a word in there. They probably don’t remember you. Keep it that way, got it?”

Vic gulps and forces himself to nod. Jaime drags him forward, leading him through the forest. He navigates it expertly; he could do it blind, the result of too many late-night runs. They finally come to a stop at a large house, and that’s when everything comes flooding back.

The anxiety, the panic, the feeling of helplessness and being on edge all the time…he feels the ball of it swell in his chest as he stares at the house. He grew up there. As shitty as things were, it’ll always have a piece of his heart. He grew up there and he has to keep repeating it over and over in his head, reminding himself that this is familiar so his nausea stays at bay.

Jaime unlocks the door and leads him to the stairs. He catches the stares. All eyes fall to him and he squirms uncomfortably, trying to get Jaime to look at him without having to say his name.

The house looks just like he remembered. It’s hard to forget. The furniture is rearranged and there are more holes in the walls, but otherwise, it’s all the same. He doesn’t know if that’s good or bad. It’s bringing him back to a myriad of times, bad mixed with good, and his head is spinning.

“Alright, before we go in there I want you to remember one thing,” Jaime says softly, hand on a doorknob. “He’s hungover. He’s gonna snap at you, if he even remembers you. Don’t take it personally. We sorta had a…bad night, last night.”

“What-”

He doesn’t have time to even ask the question because Jaime is opening the door and they’re walking in and his heart is racing and his stomach is churning because he’s been so caught up in finding Mike and now that he has and he’s about to see him he’s realizing he doesn’t know what the fuck to say.

What is he supposed to say to the brother he abandoned for five years? ‘Hey, it’s me, y’know, the guy who promised he’d come back and then…didn’t? C’mere, gimme a hug’? 

“The fuck, Jaime? M’sleepin’”

Hearing Mike’s voice makes Vic freeze. It’s deeper. So much deeper. He’s grown up so much. He’s gone through puberty and everything; he’s a proper man. He’s not Vic’s kid brother anymore.

“C’mere, there’s someone I think you wanna see.”

Mike emerges from a corner of the room and it takes all Vic’s resolve not to make a sound. 

He looks like a completely different person. Both his arms are covered in tattoos and he has a medusa piercing. He’s grown what used to be peach fuzz stubble out into a beard. His eyes are bloodshot and his tank top is hanging off his skinny frame. 

“What the _fuck_ did you bring that _traitor_ here for?”

…

“You okay? Stitches don’t hurt or anything? Do ya need more water? I’ll get you some-”

“Gee. I’m okay, seriously. Stop worrying.” He grabs Gerard’s hands and smiles at him. Gerard hiccups, dropping to his knees next to the bed and stroking his thumb over Frank’s cheek. 

“I…fuck, Frankie. I almost _lost_ -” His voice breaks. “I almost lost you. I don’t…I can’t even say how sorry I am, Frankie. I love you. I love you so fuckin’ much. I’m sorry I _ever_ made you doubt that.”

Gerard’s crying by the end of it and it breaks Frank’s heart. He didn’t want any of this. He wanted it to work so he could avoid this, because seeing Gerard in pain is the worst thing in the world. 

“ _I’m_ sorry,” Frank replies. “I’m sorry I did this to you.”

“Don’t apologize for feeling.”

“Don’t apologize for what _I_ felt.”

“You felt it because of _me_.”

“I felt it because I’m fuckin’ paranoid!” Frank snaps. “I was being paranoid. Kellin put the thought in my head and I just…I couldn’t ignore it. The rational side of me was screaming that you could _never_ do that, but the rest of me just refused to believe it.”

“That’s my fault,” Gerard whispers. “I should’ve told you…”

Frank swallows. He’s not wrong about that. If Gerard had just _said_ something, _told_ him that he was trying to find his brother, Frank would’ve backed off completely and let him do his thing. It would’ve never come to this.

 _It would’ve never come to this_.

“You should’ve told me,” Frank repeats. “Even if you weren’t cheating I felt so shitty because I thought you didn’t think I was worth telling. And it seemed pretty big from how distracted you were. You didn’t…you didn’t cuddle with me at night, you didn’t tell me you loved me…and I know I shouldn’t need that constant validation, but I wasn’t ready for it to just…stop. It was there and then it wasn’t…”

“I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to get your hopes up,” Gerard says desperately. “I didn’t want you to get all excited for me not to end up finding him. I didn’t want to put you through that. You always support me so much in anything I wanna do and when it doesn’t work out you feel the loss too and I just…I wanted to protect you, Frankie. I didn’t want you to be disappointed again…”

That hurts. Their lack of communication caused all this. Gerard was trying not to hurt him but inadvertently was, and he was trying to do something that would take his pain away but ended up hurting Gerard…it’s all a tangled mess that could’ve been fixed by one of them pulling their head out of their ass and saying something.

“Did you?” Frank asks. 

“Did I what?”

“Find him,” Frank chokes out. “Did you find your brother?”

The smile that lights up Gerard’s face breaks the barrier of tears he’s been trying to hold. “I found him, Frankie. I did. He was adopted by a family like, twenty minutes from here? I already talked to moms and they said they’d set something up.”

“I’m so happy for you,” Frank breathes, pulling him into a kiss. Gerard’s lips are soft and the kiss is passionate, full of the feelings they’ve been holding back for the past couple weeks, and Frank couldn’t be happier.

“I love you,” Gerard says, pressing their foreheads together. “I know I’ve been really bad at saying it recently, but I really fucking love you, Frank Anthony Iero. You have my heart and I.” He stops, a sob forcing its way out. “I’m never gettin’ it back.”

…

“Jack, c’mon. Y’can’t stay in bed all day.”

Jack muffles out a groan and pulls the covers further over his head. He doesn’t want to come out. He doesn’t want to face the world. Particularly, he doesn’t want to face the inevitable conversation with Zack. He loves his best friend to death, but he _really_ doesn’t want to deal with rationality right now. He’s perfectly fine being irrational and hiding from the world.

“I told Alex.”

Everything stops. The panic is back, the icy feeling and the racing heart. He wrenches the covers from his body and sits up in one motion, staring at Zack. “You _what_? What the _fuck_ , Zack? What the hell is wrong with you? What the hell did you _tell_ him?”

He’s been trying so hard. He’s been trying so hard to keep it under wraps, keep it hidden from the _one_ person who treats him like he’s normal. Alex didn’t need to know. He was the only person who didn’t treat him like he’d been through something terrible. He wasn’t Jack who no one wanted, undeserving of love, kicked out of every foster home he’s been in. He wasn’t Jack who couldn’t eat right. He wasn’t Jack who would eventually kill himself because his body was fucked beyond repair. He was _Jack_ , dick-joke making, fun loving, cuddly Jack.

And that’s ruined.

“Don’t do that,” Zack warns, voice a low growl. “Don’t act like I killed someone. I told him what he needed to hear, Jack. The kid’s fuckin’ destroyin’ himself! He thinks it’s _his_ fault you don’t wanna go out with him! I couldn’t let him go on believin’ that.”

“He thinks…he thinks it’s his fault?” Jack asks in disbelief. “I don’t…that’s such fuckin’ bullshit, oh my god. I wanna go out with him, fuck, I do, I just…I can’t.”

“Your past doesn’t have to fuck up your future,” Zack tells him. “Take a risk. Be with him. See where it goes. He could be your soul mate, Jack, and you’re lettin’ him slip away.”

“Don’t gimme that crap.” He doesn’t believe in it. Everyone has one single person they’re meant to fall for and spend the rest of their lives with? It’s perfect. _Too_ perfect. Too good to be true. That’s the bullshit that happens in movies, it’s not real life. Real life isn’t a fairytale. Nothing goes the way you expect it to. People who spend their time waiting for their fuckin’ “soulmate” are just destined to be disappointed.

Not everyone ends up happy.

“Soulmates?” Zack rolls his eyes. “Open your fuckin’ eyes. Gerard and Frank? Geoff and Awsten? Brendon and Ryan? Every fuckin’ person here’s found their soulmate. They’re gonna be together for the long run. And me…I think Rian’s it, man.” He rubs the back of his neck nervously. “Point is, Alex could be yours. You’ll never know if ya don’t try. You got him, Jacky. Don’t let him slip away. Don’t do this and regret it for the rest of your life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Next chapter is the Vic and Mike scene I've been building up to, which, if you couldn't tell by the way this one ended, doesn't go too well. It sends Vic on a spiral that leads to a pretty impulsive (and bad) decision. Gerard also finally reunites with Mikey, and Jordan gets a surprise out of it, and finally, Thanksgiving arrives, and things with Brendon reach an all time low (no pun intended :P). 
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings - anxiety, abuse, panic attacks, depression, and suicidal thoughts.
> 
> This one's...kinda a lot. Be careful if anything I've mentioned is a trigger.

He takes a step back, dizzy. 

He can feel his throat closing up. His heart is racing. He can’t stop shaking.

His worst nightmare is coming true.

Mike _hates_ him.

He anticipated some anger, a little hesitation, even fear, but never on this scale. The glare Mike’s giving him is terrifying. Narrowed eyes, clenched fists, stiffened frame – he’s in full-out defense mode, ready to attack. 

“Mike, c’mon, hear him out,” Jaime tries. “I’m sure he had a good reason for leaving.”

“Stop tryna defend him,” Mike growls. “He doesn’t _get_ to explain. He _betrayed_ us. He’s a fucking _traitor_.”

“Mike,” Vic breathes. The single word hurts coming out. Everything hurts. There’s a lump in his throat and tears in his eyes and he’s starting to sway. “Mike, I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…”

“Cut the shit,” Mike snaps. “You don’t get to disappear for five fuckin’ years and come back expecting me to take you back with a fuckin’ _sorry_. Your sorry means shit. It’s fuckin’ useless, just like you are. Jaime, get him outta here.”

“Mike-”

“Did I fucking stutter?” Mike’s voice drops to a deadly calm. “I want him out of here. Now.”

He hears Jaime sigh behind him. “C’mon Vic, we gotta go…”

He doesn’t move. He stares into Mike’s eyes, searching desperately for a shred of pity, sympathy, _something_. He’ll take anything. He just needs him to listen. He just needs a minute to change his mind.

“Mike, please…” His voice breaks. “I-I have a reason. I wanted to come back I promise I did I just-”

“What part of _get the fuck out_ is not getting through your thick skull?” Mike’s voice is murderous. “You walked out of my life. You chose that. You don’t get ta waltz in here five years later and start crying when I don’t give you a hug. You don’t _deserve_ a hug. You don’t deserve anything. And you and me, we’re history. We’re brothers by blood, unfortunately.” He stops just to shoot him another death glare. “But we’re never gonna be more than that. Get it through your thick ass head because if you ever come back here…” Mike takes a couple steps forward until he’s so close to Vic that their noses are touching. “I’ll kill you.”

…

“Hey babe, you ready? They just pulled into the driveway.”

Gerard squeezes Frank’s hand and brings it up to his lips. The panic surges through him and he turns his head into Frank’s shoulder, inhaling and exhaling. 

He’s so scared. 

It’s been almost four years since he’s seen his brother. Four of the most crucial years of his life. He went through puberty alone. He started his teenage years alone. He had no one during the years that having _someone_ is vital. 

The option to stay together wasn’t there. He was addicted to drugs and drank too much and that sent him to Willow Park. Mikey went to a regular foster home. He remembers feeling the guilt wash over him, a tidal wave of emotion that threw him into a complete downward spiral. The worst part is that it would’ve hurt less if there was nothing he could do. But this, this was his fault. 

If he hadn’t taken on such self-destructive coping mechanisms, they could’ve stayed together. He could’ve been _there_ for the crucial moments in Mikey’s life. 

He’s got a lot to make up for. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” Frank murmurs, breath warm against his skin. The doorbell rings, and Jordan gets off the couch to answer it, Quinn following close behind. 

“Loges? What are you- holy fucking _shit_.” Gerard freezes, watching as Jordan brings a hand up to her mouth, staring at the people gathered on their porch.

Quinn whispers something in her ear and they both take steps back. Two guys enter first, and Mikey brings up the rear, fiddling with his fingers, eyes on the floor.

Gerard moves before he knows what’s happening. He crosses the room in two strides and pulls Mikey into his chest. He’s already crying. From the dampness staring to soak into his shirt, Mikey is too. 

He presses a messy kiss to Mikey’s hair and rests his chin on his head. He’s smiling so hard it hurts. The feeling is unlike any other. This euphoria, this relief…he wants to capture it in a box and keep it forever. This is what unconditional happiness feels like.

“Hi Gee,” Mikey hiccups. He lifts his head and they lock eyes, and then Gerard is pulling his head back to his chest and squeezing impossibly tighter.

“Oh baby, I missed you so much,” he sobs. “I’m so sorry.”

“When the hell did you two adopt a kid?” Gerard’s only half-listening to what Jordan is saying. He can barely take his eyes off his brother. Now that he’s back in his arms, back where he belongs, he never wants to let go.

“It’s only been a couple months.” The one with brown hair smiles sheepishly at Jordan. “I was gonna tell you, there was just never a right time.”

“And I handled everything.” The other one wraps an arm around his - boyfriend’s? husband’s? Gerard has no idea – shoulders. “Logan’s been really busy at the lab lately. We started the paperwork almost a year ago, it just took forever to get approved.”

“Oh!” Jordan turns to them. “Sorry guys, I forgot. This is my little brother Logan and his husband Amar. I knew they were thinking about adopting, but I never…” She trails off, shaking her head, and pulls Logan in for a hug.

Gerard just holds Mikey a little tighter and cries a little harder and lets himself be consumed by the uninhibited happiness he’s been blessed with.

He knows it won’t last long.

…

Vic walks the five miles home in a daze. 

Kellin told him to text, said he’d come pick him up, but Vic can’t comprehend that right now. He feels like his realities are blurring together, like what just happened was a horrible nightmare. Everything is fuzzy and he’s stumbling because his head is spinning too fast to concentrate on walking in a straight line.

He was prepared for it to go badly, but never in a million years did he imagine this. He never fathomed how angry Mike really was. 

He threatened to _kill_ him.

The thought brings more tears and he swipes angrily at his eyes, forcing himself to swallow them down. He’s tired of crying.

When he finally gets back to the house and unlocks the door, he’s greeted with Jordan and Quinn’s looks of anger and disappointment and it makes the tears come faster. More people angry with him. Just what he fuckin’ needs.

“Would you like to tell us _which_ part of you thought sneaking out to go into _gang_ territory was okay?”

“I’m sorry,” Kellin shouts. “They forced it outta me.” He joins them in the foyer, reaching for Vic with that stupid worry in his eyes. Vic shakes his head and dodges his hands. He doesn’t deserve it.

“It doesn’t matter,” Vic cries. He can’t see anymore. He’s swaying as he tears furiously past them. “He hates me.”

“Vic, wait!” Kellin rests a hand on his shoulder and Vic wrenches his body away. His skin is on fire. It’s getting harder to breathe. In his frenzy, he manages to grab ahold of Kellin’s shirt sleeve and drag him up the stairs and into his room.

Just his luck, Geoff and Awsten are curled up together on Geoff’s bed, locked in a heated make out session when he bangs the door open.

“Ever heard of knocking?”

“Ever heard of getting the _fuck_ out?” Vic growls. He can’t deal with this right now.

“He’s had a bad day, can you guys give us a bit?” Kellin explains. An arm winds around his torso and drags him backward. Vic resists, tries to push Kellin away, but his grip is too strong.

Kellin steers him over to his bed and pushes him to sit on the edge, scooting in next to him and wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

“I don’t wanna talk,” he says stubbornly. He _can’t_. His chest feels tight and his head is pounding and he wants to cry. 

He wants to forget. He doesn’t want to feel it anymore. In the past, when things like this would happen he’d inject heroin into his bloodstream and find any willing girl. He didn’t have sobriety and a committed relationship to worry about. He could self-destruct in peace.

Being in a committed relationship may have its perks though. He doesn’t have to go looking…

He turns his head and meets Kellin’s lips in a kiss, wrapping his arms around Kellin’s neck and shifting position so he’s sitting on Kellin’s lap with his knees bracketing Kellin’s hips. He kisses long and hard, thrusting his hips forcefully.

He needs to forget. He needs to feel something else. He _needs_ it.

He breaks their kiss long enough to grab the hem of Kellin’s shirt, and just as he’s pulling it up, Kellin grabs his wrist. “C’mon, I’ll bottom, whatever you want. Let’s just do this.”

“ _No_ , Vic!” Kellin replies. “I’m not having sex with you!”

He stops. The adrenaline that’s been building up is beginning to wear off. He feels a sinking in his stomach. Kellin…doesn’t want him? Did he do something wrong? Kellin’s _always_ up for sex. Or is he that horrible that his boyfriend doesn’t even want him anymore?

“Do you…do you not want me?” The words tear up his throat coming out, and he can’t meet Kellin’s eyes. He can’t take this. He can’t take another heartbreak, not after the day he’s had. 

Not after _Mike_.

“Of _course_ I want you!” Kellin exclaims. “I just-”

He cuts him off with another kiss. “What are we waitin’ for then?”

“I’m not doing this, Vic.” Kellin’s voice is soft. “You’re vulnerable. I’m not gonna take advantage of you like this. Let’s just cuddle, okay?”

The panic is growing stronger. “No!” He cries. “I _need_ this! I needa feel _something_ , I, I can’t, fuck, I don’t, fuck-”

“Stop,” Arms wrap around his torso and Kellin guides his face into his shoulder. “Stop fighting me, Vic. You’re okay. Everything’s okay. You needa take a step back. _Breathe_. I’m right here, I promise.”

“Don’t leave me,” is all he can manage. Kellin tightens his grip and turns so they’re both lying down. 

He turns from being the little spoon to bury his face in Kellin’s chest and just sobs, sobs for Mike, for what he’s lost, for the shitstorm his life has turned into, but mostly, for the fact that he doesn’t think it’ll ever get better.

…

He can’t cry anymore.

His tear ducts have dried up; he has no tears left. His head hurts. His chest aches. Tears are drying on his face and they feel stiff. Moving any part of his body is painful. 

Today is Thanksgiving.

It’s Thanksgiving and the cooking’s already begun and everyone is downstairs and all he wants to do is crawl back into bed and pull the covers over his head because the thought of seeing everyone’s PDA makes him want to jump off the roof of this house.

It’s not _fair_.

It’s not fair that everyone else gets to enjoy this holiday, gets to revel in their relationships and hold each other a little tighter out of pure gratitude in the spirit of what today is. It’s not fair that he has to watch it. It’s not fair for him to tell them to stop just because of him. But most of all, it’s not fair that everyone else gets their happy ending. 

It’s not fucking _fair_.

Sure, everyone’s problems will still be there after today. There are no magic “Thanksgiving” powers to rid the world of its issues. Vic’s brother will still hate his guts, Alex and Jack will still not have their shit together, Geoff will still wake up with terrifying nightmares…the world will go on. 

But today is solace, a day full of love and togetherness and _healing_.

For everyone except him.

He doesn’t want to live anymore.

The world without Ryan is a desolate place. It’s desaturated, a blend of greys that make up the fog he’s living in. 

The lump of emotion swells and he chokes on tears he didn’t even know he could produce. He turns his face into his pillow and muffles a ragged sob, hugging another pillow to his chest as hard as he wishes he could be hugging Ryan.

He didn’t know their last hug was their last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? I know it was a lot and really heavy. I know things don't seem to be looking up, but trust me, they'll start. Next chapter, Thanksgiving dinner, Gerard visits Mikey, Geoff's nightmares start getting worse, and the perfect paradise Pete and Patrick have been living in starts to crack. The more comments I get, the quicker you get the chapter.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings - mentions of eating disorders, anxiety, panic attacks, and suicide.

“Okay, I know you all don’t wanna do the whole ‘let’s go around the table and each say what we’re thankful for’ because we’d be here forever,” Quinn says. “But I’d just like to say…I am so grateful and blessed to have you kids in my life. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Each of you brings me so much happiness and gives me a purpose in life and it means the absolute world to me. I love you.”

“I’d like to propose a toast,” Jordan follows, raising her wine glass. “To my beautiful wife, and the extraordinary family we’ve built. We love you guys.”

“To family!”

Alex grins as the sentiment echoes around the table, clinking his glass with Awsten’s.

The last time he did this was when Tom was still alive. He always loved holidays. Alex forces the smile to stay on his face at the thought. Tom was the driving force behind their family’s festivities. He decorated Christmas trees, spent hours researching pie recipes, climbed onto the roof to hang lights and inflatable Santas…he lived and breathed the holidays. They died with him.

Alex blinks back the tears forming in his eyes. He almost forgot what this feels like. Holidays, being surrounded by loved ones, feeling like he belongs…it’s unfamiliar and for the first time since he’s been here part of him misses his old house and old family, before any of the drinking and beatings and fear. 

He shakes his head to clear it, looking up from his plate. To his chagrin, he locks eyes with Jack, and he wants to look away, but then he sees it. Jack’s eyes are shining with tears. His lip is quivering. His gaze flits from Alex downward, and Alex follows it to his plate, his very _full_ plate.

Shit. 

He can’t believe he didn’t realize it sooner. Thanksgiving must be _hell_ for someone with an eating disorder.

It explains so much, like why Geoff is muttering praise after every bite Awsten takes, their hands clasped together firmly, why Gerard has one arm draped around Frank’s shoulders, squeezing every time his fork goes into his mouth, why Luke has abandoned his food to reach for Michael’s plate and cut it into portions that seem less daunting, why Pete has a hand on Patrick’s back, rubbing in small circles as they both eat steadily, and most of all, why Jordan and Quinn aren’t sitting next to each other but on either side of Brendon, trying to coax him to cut a bite of turkey.

The one commonality in all those situations is that they all have _somebody_. All of them…except Jack.

It tugs at Alex’s heartstrings and he shoots Jack an encouraging smile because all their shit be damned, no one deserves to suffer the way he is, on Thanksgiving no less. “I believe in you, Jack. You can do this.”

A hint of a smile peaks out onto Jack’s face and Alex watches as he cuts the tiniest bite of turkey and stabs it with his fork. “You can do it,” he repeats. “You got this.”

The fork goes in and Alex’s heart swells with pride. It’s Jack’s victory but he feels it too. Proud is an understatement.

And he goes on, drowning Jack in the reassurances and praises. Thinking about recent events stings, but seeing Jack’s plate empty and his smile full makes it completely worth it. 

…

“Hi Gee.”

Mikey smiles at him from the doorway and Gerard takes a breath, shoving his hands in his pockets and returning it. Mikey takes a step backward to let him in, and he joins him in the foyer, looking around, surveying the house his brother’s been living in for the past three months.

“Hi baby.”

It’s nice. Nicer than he ever imagined. The entryway is flooded with light, giving way to a large spiraling staircase. There are pictures all over the place, mostly of Logan and Amar, but he recognizes Jordan in quite a few of them from when she and Logan were younger. She hasn’t changed much.

“D’ya…d’ya wanna see my room?” Mikey asks shyly. He’s fiddling with his glasses, and it brings Gerard the warmth of relief. It’s a nervous habit Mikey’s had since he was a kid. Whenever he was in anxiety-inducing situations, his hand would find his glasses instinctively and fidget. The fact that Mikey’s nervous right now is worrying, but Gerard’s relieved that he still has some of his habits and quirks.

“Lead the way.” Mikey grabs his arm and practically drags him up the stairs, down the hallway, into the last room on the left side.

It’s exactly what he expected. Simplistic with a touch of personality that screams Mikey. There are band posters on the walls and a bass guitar near the bed. Everything else is impeccable. The room is spotless. Mikey’s had extreme anxiety and a touch of OCD for as long as he can remember – he takes the phrase “neat freak” to a new level.

Mikey plops down on the bed and motions for Gerard to join him, which he does, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him into his side. 

“How is everything?” He ventures, pressing a kiss to the side of Mikey’s head. “Are they good to you?”

Mikey smiles. “They’re amazin’, Gee. They let me decorate however I wanted, get a bunch of shit from Hot Topic, and they bought me that bass…” He trails off, looking at his lap. “They’re makin’ me see a therapist though. I got diagnosed. Social anxiety, generalized anxiety, and mild OCD.”

It hurts to hear. His stomach sinks. He hates that Mikey’s suffering, but he’s getting help for it; he was adopted by a couple that believes mental illness is real and he’s getting the support and help he needs and that’s the most important thing.

“Logan, um, he has anxiety too,” Mikey explains. “He sees the same therapist. So he gets it. They both do.”

“M’so glad,” he murmurs. “’ve been so worried ‘bout you all these years.”

“The first few homes were bad,” Mikey replies. “They didn’t like, hit me or anything, but they didn’t, I dunno…they didn’t really care? Just did the bare minimum to keep the cash comin’ in. And it sucked. For a long time. Missed you a lot. But it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been…”

“The fact that you had to go through any of that at all…” Gerard sighs. “Fuck Mikey, m’so sorry. I shoulda-shoulda been better…”

“You did your best,” Mikey whispers through tears. “You did all you could. Took care of me so long. I knew…knew you weren’t okay. M’sorry I couldn’t do more.”

“ _No_ ,” Gerard whispers fiercely. “ _Never_ blame yourself. You did so much…”

Mikey got him through. On the darkest days, when he wanted nothing more than to down a bottle of whiskey and slit his wrists, the idea of leaving Mikey all alone was enough to drag him off the edge. It wasn’t just him. He had a little brother to care for and some days that was his only reason to stay.

“Is…is that other guy your boyfriend?”

“Frank?” 

“Yeah.”

Gerard smiles. “Yeah, we’ve been dating for almost two years now. He’s amazing. You needa come over and meet him for real sometime.”

“You seem happy…”

Mikey won’t look at him and when Gerard lifts his chin he sees tears in his eyes. He swallows and reaches up with his thumb to wipe them away as quickly as they fall. “I am happy,” he whispers. “I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. And you know what?” He pauses to press his lips to Mikey’s forehead. “It’s because I found you. I finally feel complete. Everything’s okay now.”

“I just…I didn’t want you ta forget about me.” The tears keep coming, faster and faster, and Mikey turns his face into his shoulder. Gerard blinks back the liquid in his own eyes and pulls Mikey onto his lap, squeezing him to his chest and resting his chin on his head.

“I could never forget about you, baby. Never. You got me, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

…

“Aws?”

Awsten turns, cutting himself off mid-laugh at the look on Geoff’s face. Fear. Anxiety mixed with fear. He’s standing there with his hands clasped together and Awsten can see him shaking. 

Awsten slides off the couch and takes a step forward, resting his hands on Geoff’s waist and kissing his cheek. “You okay?”

“Need you,” Geoff whispers. His voice is choked up. Awsten nods. He turns and shoots Alex a look of apology, which Alex returns with a smile and a gesture to ‘go on’. He smiles gratefully and takes Geoff’s hand, leading him to his bedroom. 

He keeps silent until they’re curled up on his bed, Geoff’s head pressed into his chest and his arms wrapped firmly around his waist. He brushes Geoff’s hair with his lips and runs a hand through it. “Did something happen?”

“Nightmare,” is his answer. Awsten winces. The meds Lucas put Geoff on should’ve done their job by now. He can’t keep doing this. He’s barely sleeping and the little sleep he does get is overwhelmed by flashbacks. He’s constantly exhausted and always shaky and he may be getting used to it but Awsten is tired of seeing him suffer.

“I love you,” Awsten says. It’s nothing. His love means nothing. It’s not going to get rid of the nightmares or erase the past. His love is bullshit because Geoff is suffering and it makes him feel so unbelievably useless because he can’t do anything more.

He needs to talk to Lucas.

He needs to _do_ something.

He needs to fix this.

…

“Pete...”

“Pete.”

“Pete!”

Pete jumps, startled by the increase in volume of Patrick’s voice. “What?”

Patrick rolls his eyes. “Do you really think he _wants_ you starin’ like he’s a damn museum exhibit?”

Brendon’s room is directly across his. He has a direct view of everything he’s doing, which right now is merely sitting on his bed with his headphones in and his face buried in his knees. 

“He’s not okay, ‘Trick.” Pete reaches over and pulls Patrick against him, between his legs. He rests his chin on Patrick’s shoulder and wraps his arms around his torso. “M’so worried ‘bout him.”

“At least you’re worried about _someone_ ,” Patrick mumbles. “Even if it _is_ the wrong person.”

“The fuck do you mean?” 

Patrick twists in his arms to look at him. “Jesus christ. I love you, but you’re so fuckin’ stupid. You’re spendin’ all your time worryin’ about Brendon and not enough time worryin’ about you.”

“Me?” Pete shrugs. “M’fine. What’s there to worry about?”

“You skipped your session with Lucas two days ago,” Patrick points out. “You won’t talk to me. _I’m_ worried about you, Pete. Have you at least been remembering your meds?”

Pete sighs. “I skipped my session to go to the hospital with Brendon. And I haven’t said much about things because there’s nothing _to_ say. Things have been good. The meds, which I _have_ been takin’, are doing their job. I’m good, ‘Trick. You don’t havta worry.”

Patrick pecks his lips. “I always worry. Y’know that. You…you’d tell me if you were slippin’ again, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“I just worry, ‘cause of last time, I…”

“Don’t,” Pete says sharply. “Please.”

“Pete-”

“We swore we’d never speak of it again,” Pete whispers. His heart is starting to race. “It’ll never _happen_ again, I swear, I’ll take my meds, I promise, it _won’t_ …”

“I know,” Patrick replies, stroking his cheek. “I just want you ta think about how much of Brendon’s problems you’re taking on. So you don’t lose control again.”

“I won’t,” Pete chokes out. “Never again. I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Pete and Patrick's secret isn't gonna be revealed for a while; you know me and my build up, lol. Next chapter puts Brendon in a very uncomfortable place when Ran's doctor has some bad news, along with some more of Alex's backstory coming out, specifically his upcoming birthday and why he hates it so much, and Kellin decides he's had enough of Vic's spiraling and takes matters into his own hands. The more comments, the quicker you get the chapter.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings - anxiety, panic attacks, self-harm, mentions of suicide, mentions of rape, and drug abuse.

"Family only."

"He _is_ family," Mr. Ross snaps. "He loves Ryan just as much as we do."

Brendon gulps as he follows Ryan’s parents into the conference room. There are only chairs, so he stands off to the side, back to the wall. He tilts his head back and closes his eyes, slipping his thumb under his shirtsleeve and pressing the pad of his finger against his fresh cuts.

He grits his teeth and forces himself to open his eyes and tune back in. Whatever Ryan’s doctor is saying must be important. “…not getting any better, I’m afraid. He’s not getting worse, but things are also not improving. It’s hard to say if they’ll _ever_ improve, which is why I’d like to talk about your options.”

“Options?” Mrs. Ross repeats. “What do you mean? All we can do is wait for him to wake up, right?”

The doctor shakes his head. “Mrs. Ross, brain damage is very traumatic to the body, and he’s been in a coma for a month now. You and your husband need to consider whether you want him to continue living like this; hooked up to a feeding tube and ventilator, unable to breathe on his own…is that really the kind of life you want for your son?”

“What are you saying?” Mrs. Ross says, her voice low. “That we should unplug him? Let him-” She cuts herself off, choking on tears. “ _Die_?”

“I just don’t want to give you a sense of false hope. The reality is that we aren’t sure _if_ he’ll wake up, given the extent of his injuries, and we’re using a lot of resources and _money_ – your money, might I add – to keep him alive. Hope is a nice thing to have, but in this case, it’s best to prepare yourselves-”

“Have you ever loved someone?” 

“Excuse me?”

“Have you ever loved someone?” Brendon repeats. His voice catches in his throat and he swallows hard. “Because if you have, you’d understand that he’s more than a stupid teenager who got in an accident.”

“Brendon, honey-”

“He’s the love of my life,” Brendon says thickly. “He’s my whole world. He’s everything and I _really_ don’t think you know what that means because if you did,” he pauses. A sob forces itself out. “If you did, you’d understand why we can’t give up on him. We won’t. Fuck money. Fuck resources. You don’t abandon the people you love. We’re _not_ giving up on him.”

…

“So, when are we puttin’ up the tree?”

“Thanksgiving _just_ ended, calm your tits.”

“It needs to be up before December 1st.”

“Says _who_?”

“Says _me_.”

“That’s what we always do,” Awsten says. “We go shopping for last minute shit on Black Friday and spend the weekend decoratin’. It’s my favorite time of year.”

“You’d marry Christmas if you could.”

“I’d rather marry Geoff, but I wouldn’t be mad about that.”

“Is that a proposal I smell?”

“No one’s proposing!” Jordan joins them with a tray of hot chocolates, Quinn following with another. “You guys are _children_.”

Awsten shrugs. “I’m just sayin’. When he’s ready I am too.” Geoff rolls his eyes and brings him in for a kiss.

“I call best man,” Alex says mid-giggle. He grabs a mug and leans back against the couch. “I already have a speech.”

“Okay, aside from the fact that you kids are tryna grow up _way_ too fast,” Jordan says. “There _is_ a celebration we needa talk about. Alex, hun, what do you wanna do for your birthday?”

“This is your first one with us,” Quinn continues. “We always give you guys an option. You can either have it really lowkey and we can take you and whoever else you wanna bring out for the day to do whatever you want – within reason.” She pauses to shoot Jack a look. “Or we can invite whoever you want to the house and if you’re comfortable, Jor and I invite our families and we have a party. It’s up to you.”

“Most of these guys go with the day out and make it a date.” Jordan reaches over to ruffle Michael’s hair. “Or, like this one, they kick us all out for the day so they can have the house to themselves with their boyfriend.”

“Best sex of my entire life.”

“Michael Clifford!” Luke cries, cheeks pinking up as everyone turns to look at him.

“So, Alex, what’ll it be?”

Alex barely hears her.

His birthday.

How the fuck could he have forgotten?

He got so caught up in actually _enjoying_ Thanksgiving after spending so long hating it. Ever since Tom died, the holiday hasn’t been the same. He’s hated it since. Too many memories. Too many reminders of what’s to come.

Thanksgiving brings with it the end of November and then there’s December and Rian’s birthday and then his own, but most of all…Tom’s death anniversary wedges itself between the two “happier” occasions, one drop of darkness that contaminates the entire solution of light.

In two weeks, Tom will have been dead for four years.

The realization leaves him choking. Usually, his panic attacks start slow, working their way up from one symptom to all at once, hot flashes to unsteady breathing. 

It’s never happened this fast before.

He could breathe and now he can’t. He’s panting and his chest hurts and the room is spinning and people are talking to him and hands are reaching for him but he can’t focus on any of it. 

The voices are getting weaker and the dizziness is getting stronger. He can’t force himself to move. Everything hurts. He doesn’t know what’s going on. He’s trapped, suffocated, unable to force air out of his lungs, and it only makes the feeling worse. 

He’s going to die.

That’s his last thought before everything goes black.

…

Kellin’s done.

He’s done cleaning up blood and disinfecting wounds and staying up all hours of the night to make sure Vic doesn’t sneak out of bed and out of the house to meet with his dealer. He’s done watching his boyfriend self-destruct and give so little care to the mess he leaves in wake. It’s both heartbreaking and soul-crushing. Vic is hurting and it’s his job to make it better but in this case the only person who can make things better wants him dead. 

He pulls to a stop in front of the convenient store he dropped Vic off at a week ago and turns off the ignition with a shaky hand. He’s scared. Going into gang territory, alone, with absolutely no experience? Terrifying. His heart is racing and his hands haven’t stopped shaking. He doesn’t know how Vic did this for so many years. 

Walking into the woods has him on edge. He’s waiting for the shot, fearing for his life, unsure of what to expect and trying to prepare for the worst. He’s in a weird in-between place because Vic’s told him a lot about what happened in the gang, but he’s never had any experience with it. They could take pity on him or have no mercy. He has no idea what to expect. 

“Whoa there. The fuck do ya think you’re goin’? This is Pierce the Veil territory, no trespassers.”

The man in front of him has what he would assume to be a kind smile, if it weren’t for the leather jacket and tattoos. He’s not smiling right now, but if he were, Kellin’s sure his bravado would be knocked down a few notches.

“I, um…” He stutters uncertainly. “My name’s Kellin, I’m Vic’s boyfriend. I need…I needa talk to Mike…”

Just as he thought, when a hint of a smile peaks out onto the man’s face, he becomes much less intimidating. “Aw, Vicky’s got a boy? That’s real cute. But kid, there’s no way I’m lettin’ you anywhere _near_ Mike. Vic barely made it outta that and he used to be one of us. You’re just a straight-up trespasser.”

“Mike needs to know,” Kellin insists. “Vic didn’t mean ta be gone so long. What happened to him afterward…he couldn’t come back. He tried. He really did. But he was too fragile.”

A hand clamps around his shoulder and he finds himself being steered back in the direction of the convenient store parking lot. “Wait, no, please! I needa talk to Mike, you gotta let me, please!”

The guy ignores him. “This your car?”

Kellin nods, feeling the hand leave his body. He opens his mouth to speak but quickly gets cut off. “Unlock it, would ya? I can’t take ya ta Mike, but ya can tell me. I’ll tell Mike. He’ll take it better from me.”

Kellin does as he’s told. He’s shakier than ever. Heat is flooding him in waves as he presses a button on his keys and hops into the driver’s seat.

“By the way, I’m Jaime.” Jaime holds out a hand once he’s closed the door behind him. “Me and Vic go way back. I took care o’him and Mike when they were younger. I was like their big bro.”

“He wanted to come back,” Kellin repeats for emphasis. “He really did. He just, he couldn’t, it was all too much, he tried-”

“Hey.” Jaime holds up his hands in surrender. “I believe ya. Never held it against him. I always knew somethin’ was up. You gonna tell me what?”

“He was raped.” Saying the words has nausea bubbling at the pit of his stomach even though it was years ago. Vic’s completely over it but Kellin will never forget what it took to get him there. “He ran away and some guy found him and took him in, and started hitting him when he didn’t wanna do it. And then he made him do it anyway.”

Jaime’s silent for a few moments. “Did he…is he…okay?” His voice breaks on the last word and Kellin can see tears in his eyes. He knows it’s hard to hear but the truth is all that works. People are quick to jump to conclusions and then they learn the truth and everything changes. 

“He wasn’t,” Kellin says tightly. “Not for a long time.” Rape victims typically fit into one of two categories; the trauma is too much and they develop PTSD and never want to have sex again as a result, like Geoff, or they go down a long road of self-destruction, doing anything to numb their feelings. Vic was the latter.

When they met, Vic was sleeping with people left and right, fucking girls senseless and letting other guys do whatever the hell they wanted to him. He was high most of the time and drunk the rest, too wasted to know or _care_ what was happening to his body. He just didn’t want to feel. He’d do anything to get there.

“He got addicted to heroin,” Kellin continues. “LSD, ecstasy. Sometimes weed. I dunno what he was on when he was here, but…any drug he could get his hands on he took, and if it wasn’t that it was straight vodka. He fucked anyone who was willing. I think he…” He trails off, shaking his head. “I think he lost a part of himself. It took something from him. He didn’t wanna feel it, didn’t wanna feel _anything_ , anymore. And…he’s slippin’ again. This thing, with Mike…I haven’t slept in a week because I’m afraid he’ll sneak out and relapse. He’s been sober almost three months. He was doin’ so good…”

“Fuck, man.” Jaime tilts his head back and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I had no idea…”

“Neither does Mike,” Kellin replies. “He has no fucking _clue_ what Vic’s been through. He didn’t choose not to come back because he’s a dick. Withdrawal was hell. He ignored all his shit, repressed it, didn’t deal with it, and then it came back to bite him in the ass and he’s _just_ startin’ to recover. And I know gang life is complicated but this is complicated too. Vic _needs_ Mike. He needs him to understand and be supportive or he won’t get through this.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Jaime promises. “I’ll get through ta him. And…tell Vic I’m sorry?”

“You didn’t do anything.”

Jaime shoots him a sad smile. “Exactly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? For the record, I have no idea when Tom died and I'm not sure of the whole 'did he kill himself or was it alcohol poisoning' debate either. I'm taking creative liberties here, and I hope you're all okay with that. Next chapter, Jalex conversation, Lucas returns, and Patrick starts noticing something...different...about Pete.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings - panic attacks, anxiety, mentions of depression, mentions of self-harm, mentions of abuse, and rape.

“Hmm…”

Jack whips his head up and tightens his grip on Alex’s hand. He scoots his chair a few inches closer and watches as Alex blinks rapidly and pushes himself up to his elbows. He looks around the room, gaze finally stopping on their joined hands.

“Wha…?” He asks groggily. 

“You had a panic attack and passed out,” Jack tells him, keeping his voice low. “Mama carried you up here. You slept through dinner – thanks for that, by the way – I said I’d stay with you so I didn’t have to eat with everyone.”

“Glad I could be of service.” Alex pulls his hand out of Jack’s and turns away. Jack winces. Probably not the best way to put things.

“Hey, don’t be like that,” he replies. “You know I didn’t mean it that way. I wanted to be here when you woke up.”

“Did you, though?” Alex challenges. “That would mean you actually gave a shit about me.”

That hurts. Jack knows the rejection must’ve been painful, but he didn’t think he gave off an impression that he _hated_ Alex… Just the thought of it is making his stomach twist.

“I’ve always cared about you, Lex.” He reaches for Alex’s hand again but Alex squirms away. Jack sighs, shaking his head. “I didn’t say no because I don’t wanna be with you…I thought Zack told you that…”

“He did,” Alex mutters. “But you were so damn quick to assume I’d hurt you. Do I really seem like that shit of a person to you?”

Jack swallows. Alex doesn’t get it. No matter who explains it, he doesn’t understand. It’s not fair. He doesn’t want to talk about the past and bring up more personal shit for Alex to get it. He shouldn’t have to. 

“What happened in your parents’ house?”

“What?” Alex snaps. “What the hell does that have to do with this?”

“Nothing,” Jack replies. “But it’s something you don’t feel comfortable talking about, right?” Alex nods. “I have trust issues. Zack told you that. It’s hard for me. I don’t like talking about it. I’m tryna be as nice about this as I can, so please, Lex…please stop pushing me. It’s not about you. I don’t wanna hurt you either.”

“Why are you so sure you will?” Alex’s eyes soften. “Why do you have that little faith in yourself?”

“M’not…not a good person to date,” Jack admits. “It just…it wouldn’t work.”

“You don’t know that!”

Jack chuckles bitterly. “The last guy I was with left me because I was too clingy. The one before said I hurt him because I didn’t spend enough time with him and used my eating disorder to cover it up. No one’s _ever_ wanted me, Alex.” His voice is thick. “No one wants a guy that can’t get better. No one wants a burden.”

…

“I don’t wanna be here.”

“No one cares what _you_ want.”

“ _I_ want this to be over.”

“Don’t we all?”

Geoff grips the sides of his chair and slides it as close to Awsten’s as possible. His hands are shaking and his stomach is churning. He doesn’t feel good at all. Group therapy is the _last_ place he wants to be. 

Every so often they have a group session with all fifteen of them. It’s infrequent, but sometimes, especially after holidays, Lucas decides that he needs to check in with all of them when they’re not split based on their illnesses, and thus, he finds himself in a room with too many people that he has to trust enough to spill his darkest secrets to.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust them, because he does. It’s just hard to talk about this. It’s hard to talk so openly about his problems to anyone but Awsten. Talking about them means acknowledging they exist and he’s not sure he’s ready for that. He wishes he could find a pill that takes way every symptom so he doesn’t have to feel like this anymore.

A pair of lips brushes his cheek and Awsten strokes his thumb over his palm. Geoff swallows thickly and closes his eyes. 

“You’re okay,” Awsten reminds, breath warm against his skin. “I’m right here.”

“Where’s Bren?”

“Hospital.”

Gerard winces. “Any news on Ryan?”

“No better, no worse,” Pete sighs. “I don’t know how much more he can take…”

“He looks like hell,” Awsten agrees. Geoff listens as the others continue listing off problems and calling each other out on how bad they look. They’re only teasing, but he hopes no one mentions him because he knows he looks like shit but hearing it makes it so much worse.

“Alright, who wants to start?” Lucas looks around the circle and Geoff immediately drops his head to his lap. 

_Don’tlookatmedon’tlookatmepleasedon’tlookatme_. 

If he doesn’t make eye contact maybe Lucas will skip over him.

“That’s cool,” Lucas continues. “I can start. I’ve had a shitty couple weeks, not gonna lie. One of my daughters is working on her college applications and my wife and I…it’s bringing us back to some really bad times.”

“Bad times?” Someone asks.

Geoff lifts his head long enough to see Lucas’ pained smile. “Brings me back to my own applications. I didn’t go to college right after high school. My parents weren’t happy about it. Had bruises for weeks.”

“I relapsed.”

The words are punctuated by silence. Geoff’s heart is racing. It’s Vic who spoke them and all eyes are on him now. The anxiety is hardening into guilt. 

Vic is _his_ roommate. 

He should’ve known.

He looks to Kellin, expecting to find surprise, and gets a surprise of his own when all he sees is love. Kellin has one of Vic’s hands in his, and he brings it up to his lips, leaning over to whisper something in Vic’s ear.

“He’s sober,” Kellin explains. “Not that kinda relapse.”

“Me too,” Alex speaks up, voice low. “I…it’s been shit.”

“Thirdin’ that.”

His heart stops. 

He never thought he would understand the feeling of ‘blood running cold’. There’s ice in his veins. It’s like an out of body experience. He’s feeling it but it’s not registering.

He can’t think straight or focus on anything or calm down enough to regulate either because the person who just said that is _Awsten_.

The long sleeves, Awsten’s initiation of any physical contact, all the nights spent in his room instead of Awsten’s…it all makes sense and Geoff is doubly kicking himself for being so clueless.

His boyfriend and his roommate _both_ relapsed, are _both_ self-harming, and he had no idea.

He’s never felt more selfish.

…

“That was big, y’know.” 

Vic shrugs. “Can I hang in your room for a bit? I think Geoff needs some time alone…”

“You know don’t havta ask.” Kellin grips his upper arm and forces Vic to look at him. “Stop changin’ the subject, Vic. That took courage.”

Vic rolls his eyes. “Courage? It took courage for me ta tell everyone how weak I am? That’s bull.”

“A year ago you would be on your second bottle,” Kellin deadpans. “You’ve grown, Vic. You’re getting better. I’m so proud of you.”

“Doesn’t make him want something to do with me, does it?”

It hurts. It’s a sharp sting of pain, a tiny pin-prick that gets bigger every time he says it. 

He doesn’t have a brother anymore.

The ache behind his eyes throbs.

He’s done crying.

The grip on his arm tightens and Kellin drags him into his room, shutting the door behind them. “Kells…what…”

“Don’t kill me for this,” Kellin says slowly. “I did it because I knew it would help. And it did.”

“Kellin…” Vic doesn’t remember the last time he’s used Kellin’s actual name. “What did you do?”

“I talked to…Jaime? I think that’s his name,” Kellin replies. “I went to where I took you because I wanted to talk to Mike, but he said that wouldn’t be a good idea and that I should just tell him instead, so I did.”

Everything stops.

He stumbles, like the world is a yo-yo and someone just lost control of it. Everything’s spinning. “You…you told him…”

A pair of arms wind around his waist and Kellin pulls him in, pressing their foreheads together. “I told him,” he repeats. “I told him everything. And I know I probably shouldn’t have, I know you’re probably pissed, I know this might’ve ruined everything, but Vic. How the fuck else was Mike supposed ta know? He doesn’t want to see you. He’ll take it better from Jaime. Trust me on this. Please.”

Vic falls. He lets his body go limp against Kellin’s and squeezes his eyes shut. Kellin maneuvers them to lie on his bed and Vic presses his face into Kellin’s shirt, trying to muffle sobs. 

“I just want my Mikey,” He cries. “Gerard got his, why don’t I get mine? It’s not fair, Kells. It’s not fair!”

It’s not fucking _fair_. Mike doesn’t get it. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t have any fucking clue how many late nights and bloodshed and anxiety attacks and beatings and forced entries happened for things to get this far. All he sees is a promise Vic broke; he doesn’t know how many runaway attempts and broken ribs and concussions went into trying to keep it. 

He thinks everything is superficial and the world is black and white but Vic can’t breathe under all the grey. 

“Let it out,” Kellin whispers. “I gotcha. You’re okay.”

“I’m not,” Vic chokes out. “I’m not.”

He doesn’t think he’ll ever be.

…

He only has a small window.

He only has a small window of time before Pete and Brendon will be back from the hospital. He needs to do this fast. He needs to find something _fast_ , or Pete’ll come home and catch him and their relationship will be over.

He knows he’s looking for something but he’s not sure what he’s hoping to find. 

Pete won’t talk to him and everything is different and he needs to find _something_. He needs to know that something is causing it and his boyfriend isn’t just drifting away from him because he cannot lose him.

He cannot lose the one person that’s keeping him stable and he knows he will if things keep going the way they’re going.

So far he’s gone through the closet, rifled through both desk drawers, skimmed his emails (he felt guilty about that level of a privacy invasion but it needed to be done) and nothing. There’s nothing that suggests Pete’s getting bad again. 

But he _knows_. He knows something is wrong; Pete’s body language says as much, and he won’t rest until he figures it out.

He can’t look the other way, he can’t give the dust time to settle, he can’t dismiss this as nothing because Pete won’t touch him and spends all his time with Brendon and he’s not cheating, he _knows_ that, but something’s wrong. Something is wrong, his boyfriend is hurting, and he needs to take a breath long enough to figure out what.

He pulls open one of the nightstand drawers and grapples for the pill bottles. There are two, one of Risperidone and one of Zoloft. Risperidone is an anti-psychotic and Zoloft is an anti-depressant and both of them work at keeping Pete balanced _only_ if he takes both consistently. 

He shakes both bottles and twists the caps, hands shaking violently. 

There are way more Risperidone pills. 

The Zoloft is disappearing but the Risperidone isn’t.

His stomach is sinking and the room is spinning. He feels sort of dizzy, like the world is tipped on its axis and he’s going to fall to the floor.

Pete isn’t taking his meds, at least not properly.

He’s gonna lose control again.

Patrick can’t breathe.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Confession...next chapter isn't written yet. I wanted to get this up for you guys, and I haven't had time to work on it yet. I know exactly what's gonna happen, so hopefully I'll crank it out tonight. Here's your hints: Geoff confronts Awsten, Brendon confesses a lot (to a comatose Ryan), Alex finally works up the courage to admit he needs help, and Vic gets a...surprise visitor. More comments give me more motivation to write, aka you getting the chapter sooner. ;)
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings - self-harm, anxiety, panic attacks, PTSD, depression, suicidal thoughts, and abuse.
> 
> This chapter's kinda a monster. Be careful if you're triggered by anything I just mentioned.

“Show me.”

“What?”

Geoff forces back a sob. “Show me what you did to yourself while I was off crying about my stupid fucking _nightmares_.”

His heart is racing. Awsten is perched on the edge of his bed but he can’t join him, can’t sit down, can’t _calm_ down about any of this. It’s too much and he’s too wound up and everything is going wrong.

How could he have not known? How could he have not seen this? How could his boyfriend have been _cutting_ himself in secret? He’s his _boyfriend_ ; he’s supposed to know these things. What they say in therapy is supposed to be known by the other, like Vic and Kellin. Kellin looked _proud_ when Vic confessed, not just as shocked as everyone else.

The realization was painful, a knife to his chest because how fucking oblivious can he get? How fucking blind does he have to be not to know the most important thing going on with Awsten.

“Geoff.” Awsten’s voice is level. “Baby, please. Breathe. You’re freaking out.”

“Of course I’m freakin’ out!” Geoff snaps. “I just found out my boyfriend relapsed while I was busy havin’ panic attacks over things that don’t even fuckin’ _exist!_ ”

“Stop.” Awsten stands and takes a step forward, resting both hands on his shoulders. “Listen, okay? I _wanted_ to tell you, I promise I did. It’s just…I didn’t want you to…”

“To what? You didn’t want me to what?”

“To do what you’re doin’ right now,” Awsten mumbles. “Blame yourself.”

“Who the fuck else am I supposed ta blame? I’m your boyfriend!”

“I dunno, _me_?”

Geoff swallows hard. He reaches down and cups Awsten’s cheek, tears filling his eyes. “I just…I love you so much Aws, and the thought of you _cutting_ yourself…”

“I’m sorry,” Awsten replies. “I hate seeing you in pain. I hate not bein’ able to take it away. I hate bein’ powerless.”

“You do though,” Geoff tells him. “You take some of it away. You make it easier. If I didn’t have you I don’t know where I’d be. You make it worth it on days I don’t see the point. You’re my motivation, Aws. I need you.”

“Nothing’s wrong with me,” Awsten assures him. “Nothing new, anyway. I just…thought I deserved it because I can’t help you…”

“That’s bullshit.” Geoff brings him in for a kiss and holds him tight. “You help me so much. Dunno what I’d do without you.”

“You’ll never havta find out.”

“You can’t do this ta me again,” Geoff mumbles. “I don’t like surprises. S’pecially when everyone else’s around. If you relapse or even have a bad day I wanna know. I wanna help. I wanna be there for you baby, please let me…”

Awsten nods quickly. “I promise I will. Next time you’ll know.”

“Hopefully there won’t _be_ a next time…”

“I love you,” Awsten says, leaning up to kiss him again. He wraps his arms around Geoff’s neck and Geoff tightens his grip on Awsten’s waist. “I’m sorry.”

“I love you too.”

…

“Hey Ry.”

He swallows and grips Ryan’s hand. “It’s been over a month, babe. How long you gonna keep the act up, eh?” The joke doesn’t sit well. He can’t bring himself to laugh. Ryan would’ve set his mouth in a thin, straight line and pointed to the door, holding back giggles, and when he moved they would’ve escaped, both of them falling over in laughter, holding onto each other for dear life.

It only brings more tears.

“I love you,” he whispers, bringing Ryan’s hand to his mouth. “They’re gonna take the cast off your arm soon.” 

Anything slightly happy has a bitter tinge, laced with a reminder of _why_ his broken bones are healing quicker. He’s not using the limbs, not exacerbating the injury. 

His body is healing but his brain isn’t and could never. 

“I can’t do this,” he breathes. His voice is thick. His tongue feels too big for his mouth. “It hurts, Ry. It’s too hard. I can’t miss you anymore. It’s too much.”

“And I know what you’re gonna say.” He forces a smile. “’Hang on, B. It’s gonna be okay. It’s gonna get better. And I’ll be here for all of it.’ But you’re not! You’re not here and it’s not okay and I’ve waited long enough so it clearly isn’t gonna _be_ okay! The only reason I’m not dead right now is because I don’t want you ta wake up to it! And by now I’m thinking of just doin’ it because fuck you ever wakin’ up! Fuck my life ever gettin’ better! Fuck it all fuck everything I don’t wanna do this anymore I don’t want this I don’t!”

He’s screaming by the end of it, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and when that’s not enough, jabbing his fingers against fresh cuts. It’s _something_. 

“I don’t feel like a person anymore, Ry,” he sobs. “I mean, what kinda human being hopes they’ll stop breathing so they won’t wake up in the morning? I’m so fucked up…I should just end it now, y’know? I don’t have anythin’ to live for anymore. And I know it’s shit to put everything on one person but you give me _more_ to live for. Not just you. But you’re gone and so is everything else and I have nothing and it’s too hard and it hurts and I don’t want to do it anymore.”

He sits in silence for a few minutes, listening to the artificial breathing of the ventilator and pressing kisses to Ryan’s forehead and hair. 

He can’t put how much he misses Ryan into words. It’s like someone’s hollowed him out, scooped out all the substance and left him a broken shell. A living corpse. That’s all he is, all he’s good for. 

His body is skeletal and he can’t think about anything but death. He’s running out of room on his wrists. He wakes up every morning wishing he hadn’t. He feels sick all the time. No one wants to talk to him because he can’t hold a substantial conversation anymore. Everyone looks at him in pity. 

“All I want for Christmas is for you ta wake up, Ry. Please. Because I can’t live like this anymore. I’m done.”

He leans up and presses his lips to Ryan’s, another sob bubbling up his throat because he _knows_ Ryan won’t kiss back but in all the years he’s known Ryan and all the years they’ve been dating, not _once_ has a kiss not been reciprocated. 

Until now.

…

“You needa tell them, Lex. I’m not takin’ no for an answer. This has gone on long enough.”

Alex lifts his head off Rian’s chest, staring down at the large wet spot he’s created with tears still streaming down his cheeks. He _aches_. He aches from crying; his head feels like it’s about to explode from how much he’s crammed into it, his limbs feel like weights he has to concentrate to lift, his stomach feels like it’s twisting in on itself. 

“It hurts, Ri.”

“I know.” Rian presses his lips to his forehead and leaves them there, tightening his hold around Alex’s waist. “That’s why you should tell them. They can help you.”

Alex says nothing, sniffling and putting his head back down. Rian’s heartbeat is pounding in his ears. It’s grounding. He breathes. In, and out. 

He’s okay.

“Jordan! Quinn! Can you guys come in here? Alex has somethin’ to tell you…”

The work he did to calm down was for nothing because his heart speeds back up as soon as Jordan and Quinn walk into the room. Quinn’s wearing a black dress and Jordan has on a button up shirt and jeans. They were clearly on their way to a date.

“Alex, hun, you okay?”

Alex turns away. He can’t look. He ruined their date, he’s about to ruin their day…maybe Jack was right not wanting to go out with him. He’s a ruiner. He ruins everything. 

“Al, c’mon.” Rian begins to draw circles into his back with his free hand. Alex swallows painfully. His head throbs when he lifts it. He turns and Rian’s arm goes with him, supporting his body. He’s basically holding him up; Alex is too drained to expend any energy on keeping his body straight.

“Oh kiddo, please tell us what’s wrong,” Quinn says. He can see tears in her eyes. “We wanna help you.”

“M-My brother…” He chokes out. His chest feels tight. “H-he killed himself. Four years ago S-Sunday…”

He can’t say anymore. His throat is closing up. He turns back into Rian, cheek finding that wet spot. It’s slimy and cool against his skin, just enough to keep him from fully succumbing to the panic. Rian’s rubbing his back and resting his chin on his head, squeezing him as tight as possible. Alex appreciates it.

Rian, bless his fucking heart, picks up where he left off. “You probably knew that. I think it was in his file. That’s only part of it. You guys know he was abused…but it’s worse than you think. Lex, you wanna…you okay with showin’ them?”

He lifts his head. His cheek is damp and the open air feels nice on it. He looks into Rian’s eyes, barely able to see through his own tear-filled ones. Rian’s look of determination mixed with reassurance speaks more than words could. 

His gaze moves down to the hem of his shirt, lip quivering. Rian seems to sense his discomfort at what has to happen because he uses his free hand to grab the bottom and pull it up. He lifts the shirt high enough that he can hook it on Alex’s shoulders, exposing his back.

Silence.

It takes a moment for someone to say something. He can’t turn around to see their reactions and maybe that’s for the best. He focuses on Rian’s encouraging smile and their joined hands, stomach twisting uncomfortably.

“Oh my god…”

“When they said scars I thought they were talkin’ about cuts, I didn’t, holy shit…”

Quinn and Jordan are stumbling for words. He doesn’t blame them. He’d be if the image weren’t as burned into his mind as it is his skin. Across his back, between the blades of his shoulders, the word ‘mistake’ is branded. 

It was four years ago, right after Tom killed himself. Words weren’t enough. The blame needed to become physical. They needed to see him suffer for what he did. 

The pain was excruciating. That’s when Rian’s parents found out about everything. He stayed with them until the burn healed. 

He remembers it like yesterday, night after night of not being able to lie on his back and screaming when it had to be cleaned and curling up against Rian’s body, listening to his steady breathing with Blink-182 on in the background. It’s where the tradition started and why his instinct is to cuddle and press his face into Rian’s chest and cling, squeeze his eyes shut and cling onto a warm body offering the comfort and love his parents never did. 

“They blamed me,” Alex whispers. “For what he did. He was their dream and I was their nightmare.”

It didn’t start after he died. Growing up was fighting a losing battle; being told he should’ve been aborted, having every failure publicized and mocked, reminded that all he was and ever would be was a mistake. That’s why they chose that particular word and decided to burn it into his skin; it was a forever reminder he’d be nothing more than that. So he’d never forget.

Not like their constant verbal reminders weren’t trauma enough. 

Rian frees his shirt and he chokes out a dry sob, resting his head back down and closing his eyes, trying to remember he’s in this position because he _wants_ to be, not because he’s been hurt so bad there’s no other option.

It doesn’t work.

…

The house is _huge_.

It’s one of those near-mansions you see on TV, dripping with plants and light and too many bedrooms to count. 

Vic lives _here_?

He can’t blame him for not coming back.

“You sure this is the place?”

Tony nods. “This is the address Kellin gave Jaime. For the last time, are you sure you don’t want me ta come with you?” 

“I fucked this up on my own, I gotta fix it on my own too,” he replies. He leans over the center console and presses his lips to Tony’s, long and hard. Tony hits the button to unlock the doors, but he remains in his seat, staring out the window. 

“Mike?”

“Fuck, turtle.” He breathes out a sigh and lets his head flop back against the seat. “What am I supposed ta say ta him?” 

Tony shrugs. “They don’t exactly sell ‘sorry I threatened to kill you’ cards. You’re on your own for this one.”

“I didn’t know,” he breathes. “Fuck, if I’d known I would’ve never…”

“I know,” Tony replies. “But that’s still no excuse.”

“I miss him.”

“So go get him back.” Tony reaches over and pulls the handle to open the door. “Stop wastin’ time.”

“Love you.”

“You too.”

He climbs out of the car and walks up the front steps onto the porch. Without giving himself time to think, he reaches forward and rings the doorbell. His heart is racing. He doesn’t know what he’s going to say. He doesn’t know how to fix this.

The door swings open.

He swallows hard. “Hey big bro. Can we talk?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...thoughts? Heavy stuff, I know. I'm trying some new things with Alex's backstory; I'd really love to know what you thought. And by the way, reread Brendon and Ryan's scene a couple times. There _is_ a tiny hint of what's about to happen. The Vic and Mike conversation is next chapter, along with Rian explaining things to Jordan and Quinn _without_ having to take care of a fragile Alex, followed by him explaining Alex's behavior to Jack, and if I can fit it in, Jack talking to Alex about everything. The more comments I get, the quicker you get the chapter.
> 
> Thanks for reading (I know it was a lot), I hope you enjoyed.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings - rape, abuse, anxiety, panic attacks, mentions of gangs, and depression.

Vic isn’t sure this is real. 

His brother is standing in front of him, hands shoved in his pocket, smiling sheepishly. 

His brother is standing in front of him.

The last time they talked ended in a death threat so his heart is racing and his hands are starting to shake. His head is spinning. This is all so much, none of which he was expecting. He doesn’t know what to do with it all.

“Breathe. You’re okay.” A pair of arms wind around his waist and Kellin kisses right below his ear. Mike’s eyebrows shoot up, but he says nothing. “Let him in babe. I’ll be there the whole time.”

His hands are shaking so hard it takes him a minute to unlock the screen door and let Mike in. When they’re standing together in the foyer he turns his face into Kellin’s neck, biting his lip.

He can’t let Mike see him cry.

“You’re okay,” Kellin whispers, pulling back slightly. They lock eyes and Vic swallows painfully, pressing his lips to Kellin’s. 

“We can talk in my room.” 

“I’m so sorry,” Mike says, once they’re in his room. He pulls at the collar of his leather jacket uncomfortably. “I didn’t…I had no idea…”

“I don’t want pity,” Vic mumbles. “If none of that had happened would you still be here?”

Mike sighs. “I dunno. Maybe. Would’ve taken longer, but…I miss you, Vic. I miss you so much it hurts.”

“You said you would _kill_ me,” Vic chokes out. A sob slips out and he winces. He’s waiting for Kellin to lose it, to leap at Mike, ready to kill. He’s waiting for Kellin to lose control and turn this into something so much bigger than it is. The anticipation is killing him. He doesn’t _want_ it to happen, but it’s almost inevitable. If it is Kellin should just get it over with.

“I was pissed,” Mike replies. “I know that’s not an excuse, but…you _promised_.” His voice breaks. “You promised you’d come back and you didn’t. You left me there. To fend for myself.”

“I didn’t mean to!” Vic exclaims. “Don’t you think I _knew_? I knew what I was leaving you with and it killed me for years that I did it anyway! It still does. But what the hell else was I supposed ta do?”

“I wanted you to take me with you,” Mike says quietly. “I hated you for so long because I was _jealous_. That you got out and I didn’t.”

That’s a knife to the gut. He had no idea. There was so much left unsaid, so many days for feelings to ruminate…these past five years have made the tension so much higher. The longer he stayed away the longer Mike had to create reasons as to why.

“The plan was ta get out, get sober, find a job, rent an apartment, and save up. I was only gonna be gone a few months. A year at most,” he explains. “But withdrawal sucked and I was desperate and he seemed so nice…” He shakes his head. “I was stupid. Naïve. I’m sorry you got fucked ‘cause of it.”

“You didn’t deserve what he did to you.” Mike’s voice cracks again. “I just…I dunno how you got through that. I-I wouldn’t have.”

“Kellin,” Vic says simply. He holds their joined hands up. “He never gave up on me. Even when I wanted ta give up on myself.”

“You needed someone to believe in you,” Kellin replies. “I love that it got ta be me. Because this, seeing you in this place after seeing you when they brought you here…proud doesn’t even begin ta cover it. You’re a miracle Vic.”

He feels the heat in his cheeks and tries to ignore it. “I, um…how-how bad was it? After I left, I mean.”

Mike shrugs. “Couple beatings. They figured out I didn’t know shit after a concussion and two broken ribs. And I guess I kinda…fell in love with it? Like, while you were there you’d always try ta keep me out of the deep shit. Take crap for me. And then you were gone and I was on my own and I had ta learn ta fend for myself. So I took more risks and went on more complicated missions and became the best goddamn spy they could ask for. Making me leader? That was a no-brainer.”

“You…you _what_?” Vic’s heart skips a beat. “I was gonna ask if you wanted to get out, you could move in here, Jordan and Quinn wouldn’t mind I- you’re _what_?”

Mike grins. “Ah, no way in hell, bro. I call the shots, get first pick of the winnings, and the adrenaline?” He whistles. “Like no other. I got this gig, a guy that loves me, money, food, all the drugs I could ask for…no way in hell m’givin’ it up. If you wanna come back you can, but I got it made there. No chance I’m leavin’.”

…

“Can we do this in here? He’s sleeping but…I don’t wanna leave him.”

Jordan nods, retaking her seat on Ashton’s bed. She wraps an arm around Quinn’s shoulders and joins their free hands. He uses the time, while they start whispering to each other, to shift position slightly, trying not to jar Alex. He’s sitting against the headboard with half of Alex’s body on his lap. Alex’s head is resting against his chest and his legs are splayed out to the side.

It’s breaking his heart. Alex’s cheeks are tearstained and the skin around his eyes is red, irritated and swollen from relentless rubbing. He’s whimpering in his sleep, muttering apologies. 

Talking about this is bringing back memories for Rian too. It’s not easy. It’s not easy to be taken back to a time when he couldn’t breathe under the weight of how useless he felt. Alex was in so much pain and all he could do was hold him. He didn’t have any answers. He couldn’t _do_ anything.

He couldn’t make the burns heal faster, couldn’t make the bones set quicker, couldn’t wave a magic wand and gift parents who actually _gave a shit_ to the most deserving person on the planet. Alex suffered _so_ much for _so_ long and all he could do was dry his tears and hold him tight and _hope_ that he could keep him together.

“We didn’t…his file didn’t say _anything_ about this…” Jordan speaks up, her voice breaking. “I mean, we knew his brother died, but not when, how, _why_ …and we didn’t have a _clue_ about his back…”

“He doesn’t talk about it,” Rian replies. “Even with me, sometimes it’s like pullin’ teeth to get him to say how he’s feelin’. He hurts himself because he thinks he deserves it. Because _they_ made him think that for so long…” 

“Can I…why would they…I don’t…” Quinn stutters. “His back, I just…”

Rian sighs. “Tom was the golden child. Alex was…an accident. Unplanned. They put so much pressure on Tom that one day he just…snapped. And since Tom and Alex were so close, their instinct was to blame Alex for stressing Tom out and bothering him even though _they_ were the problem.”

“That word,” he continues, pointedly avoiding saying it because he’s sure he’ll start crying if he does. “They called him that his whole life. After Tom died…they were so determined to punish him in a way he’d never forget. So they burned it into his skin. Second degree. It was really bad... He called me after, crying, I’ll never forget it…”

_“Al? You there?”_

_“R-Ri…”_

_“Are you okay?”_

_“They-they burned me…”_

_“They what?”_

_“Can you come…? Please, it hurts…it hurts really bad…”_

_“I’m on my way, Al. Two minutes, not even. You’re gonna be okay.”_

_“Rian…”_

_“Take some deep breaths. It’s okay. Everything’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be fine, I promise.”_

Any attempt not to cry is futile. Tears are streaming down his cheeks as he recounts the story, running to Alex’s backyard, finding him shirtless on the ground, screaming, back bleeding and blistering. 

He remembers wracking his brain for what to do, feeling utterly helpless because he couldn’t decide how to get Alex back to his house and what would hurt less and how to _fix_ it he couldn’t fix it. He ended up flipping him completely onto his stomach and thanking god Alex was built like a lanky green bean because it made carrying him reverse bridal style that much easier.

“Fuck…” Quinn whispers. “You were so young, both of you…I can’t even imagine…”

“He hates his birthday,” Rian chokes out, voice thick. “Because that’s the day they…they did it…” Tears are blurring his vision. He bites his lip and tightens his hold on Alex, trying to remind himself that he’s okay, he’s _safe_ , it’s over. “I just…he needs help. I-I can’t lose him…”

“We’ll get him more therapy, medication, anything we need to do to make everything easier,” Jordan promises immediately. “He’s gonna be okay. We’ll get him through this.”

…

Jack is confused.

Walking into Alex and Ashton’s room has him wary. Quinn said Rian wanted to talk to him, but he wasn’t sure why Rian couldn’t come to him. Once he steps past the doorway, everything makes sense.

Rian is sitting on Alex’s bed, legs stretched straight out in front of him. Alex is basically sitting on his lap. His head is resting on Rian’s chest and his face is hidden. His hair is messy, Rian’s eyes are bloodshot and teary…

Something’s wrong.

“What’s goin’ on?” He asks, taking a seat on Ashton’s bed. They both look like hell. Jordan’s eyes were red, he saw when he passed her and Quinn in the hallway. Their date clearly never happened. They disappeared into their bedroom after their talk with Rian and Alex and have yet to emerge.

“He’s not an ass,” Rian mutters, looking up to meet his eyes. “About the dating thing. He’s not an ass who won’t take no.”

“Rian, I-”

“Let me finish.” Rian runs a hand through Alex’s hair and sighs. “The abuse…I know you don’t know much because he doesn’t talk about it, but…it was really bad, Jack. For his whole life. He’s grown up being told he was an accident. A mistake.” His voice breaks on the last word. “Any affection he got was from his brother. So he knows what it is, he _knows_. And after Tom killed himself…the little he got was ripped away. And then he got here. And you were giving him the love he really needed. He got clingy. It’s not because he’s a dick. He needs love and affection. He knows what it’s like and now that it’s gone he can’t handle it.”

“I…” Jack shakes his head in an attempt to clear it, unsure of how successful he’ll be considering all the thoughts running through his mind. “I don’t…I can’t…his brother?”

“Tom,” Rian explains. “He killed himself almost four years ago. Sunday it’s four.”

“But that’s…” 

“In three days,” Rian replies. “I know. My birthday is tomorrow, Alex’s is Tuesday, and he chose right in the fuckin’ middle to end it. That’s what the panic attack was about. Kinda snuck up on him.”

“I cuddle with everyone,” Jack says. “Like, anyone who wants to. I like bein’ there for people. No one was there for me and I never want someone else to feel like that, s’pecially if there’s something I can do about it. I didn’t…I didn’t know…I just thought if I acted like before I’d be leading him on. I didn’t wanna do that.”

“Can I ask,” Rian mutters. “Why you don’t wanna go out with him? Seriously. Because he’s amazing. He’s sweet and sensitive and smart and just all around _special_ , Jack. He’s so special. He deserves the world. And he wants _you_. You’re his world. Why are you tryna throw that away?”

“It’s not that I don’t want him!” Jack explains. He feels like a broken record, saying the same thing over and over in hope that it’ll stick at least once. “I don’t want him to deal with me, Rian! I’m a _mess_! I’ve tried two relationships and neither of them worked because I’m too wrapped up in my head and don’t give a damn about anyone but myself.” He smiles sadly. “You don’t havta tell me how special he is. I already know. It’s why I don’t wanna fuck this up. He’s been through too much. I can’t be another person who hurts him.”

“You’re hurting him by cutting him off,” Rian says quietly. “He needs it, Jack. And…I think you need it too. More than you let on.”

“What?”

“You need him just as much as he needs you,” Rian repeats. “You light up when he’s in the room. He’s the only person who can get you to eat. Seeing him hurt hurts you. I think you’re scared, Jack. You have feelings for him and you’re scared to admit it. And most of all, I think you’re scared to let him love you. Because you’ve seen yourself as so horrible for so long and the thought of someone seeing you as anything more is terrifying.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Do you guys think Rian's right? You'll find out next chapter. ;) There's Jalex conversation I couldn't fit in here, Patrick goes to Lucas, and Awsten and Geoff have an actual conversation that's more driven by logic and less by emotion. The more comments I get, the quicker you get the chapter.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings - rape, anxiety, panic attacks, and mentions of abuse.

“Hey, um…can I ask you something?”

Patrick shifts his weight from foot to foot nervously. His heart is racing.

“Yeah, of course. What’s up?” Lucas straightens, slipping his phone into his pocket.

“I, um…it’s about Pete,” Patrick says. “He’s…he’s not taking his Risperidone. I don’t, I can’t…I don’t know why but he’s not taking it he’s gonna lose control again he can’t I can’t I-”

“Hey. Kid.” Lucas holds up both hands. “Breathe. You’re panicking. Take some deep breaths, okay?”

Patrick tries to copy his breathing, inhaling and exhaling on cue as if that’ll make all this go away. He’s not coherent when he’s having a panic attack and his goal was to have an actual conversation with Lucas, not lose it and end up having to be taken care of.

“Sorry,” he breathes. “I just…what happened last time can’t happen again. I can’t do it again.”

“Bipolar disorder is tricky,” Lucas says. “There’s no cure for it. The best treatment is therapy combined with lifelong medication. It sucks. Having to take pills every day for the rest of your life just to be _stable_. You feel like a freak. Not normal. It does something to you…and you wonder whether it’s worth it at all. If you’re never gonna get better. If you’re gonna be on meds your entire life. You wonder if it’s worth it at all. People with depression can eventually get off their anti-depressants but with this…no matter how good you think you’re doin’, unless you’re on mood stabilizers and anti-psychotics you’re unbalanced as fuck and it could hit you any minute.”

“How do you-”

“I’ve been on medication for almost twenty years,” Lucas replies. “Can’t function without it. Now…the losing control you’re talking about…your moms told me what happened a couple years ago. That must’ve been hell.”

“You have no idea,” Patrick mumbles, heaving a sigh. 

“Actually, I do,” Lucas replies. “I did the same thing to my wife.”

“You…you _what_?” He stares at Lucas in disbelief. 

“Hypersexuality.” Lucas doesn’t meet his eyes. “It’s a symptom of mania. I was in the same place Pete is. Didn’t wanna take my meds, didn’t wanna be a freak…I almost raped my wife because I wanted it so bad. At the time, I tried to pass it off as wanting a baby really bad, but it was so much more than that. It…we didn’t have sex for almost a year after that. It took her a long time to trust me again. To forgive me. I’m grateful every day that she did.”

“We haven’t…haven’t done anything since…” Patrick whispers. “We get close and then I remember what happened and I can’t breathe and he feels so _guilty_. I don’t know what to do. Like, I wanna tell him he shouldn’t feel guilty because he wasn’t in a right state of mind, but…he still did it…I can’t pretend he didn’t…”

“Let him feel it,” Lucas advises. “The guilt. Because if it _ever_ gets close to that again, he’ll remember the feeling and how shitty it is and he’ll stop himself. I’ll talk to your moms about setting up a session for me and him to talk some stuff out, and we can get to the bottom of why he isn’t taking his meds.”

“It makes sense now, holy shit…” Patrick says slowly. “He’s not touching me. Like not at all. He’s not taking his meds and he _knows_ what could happen so he’s distancing himself. But I don’t…I _can’t_ lose him.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Lucas promises. “We’ll figure something out. And you…you just gotta be patient. This is a lot for him to handle and he’ll never get used to it. _I’m_ still not used to it. You just…you learn to live with it. To accept it. But it doesn’t happen overnight.”

“I know.”

“We’ll get to the bottom of this,” Lucas assures him. “And you have my number, text me if you needa talk. Tell him he can text me too. You guys aren’t alone, remember that. You can survive this. My marriage is at the best it’s ever been. We have three children and we’ve never been happier. You can get past it. Every hurdle makes you stronger.”

He breathes out a sigh of relief that turns into a ragged sob. “Thank you…”

“Anytime.”

…

The door creaks as it opens.

Jack walks in, and Alex’s heart immediately speeds up. He hates it. He hates that the one person who used to be his safe place is now the cause of his anxiety. The person who used to make it go away now makes it appear and the guilt is overwhelming. 

He never wanted it to get to this point.

He never wanted to be sacred of Jack or nervous around Jack or terrified to say something in fear of how Jack would react. 

“Lex…can we talk?”

As if things weren’t bad enough. ‘Can we talk’ is a dark cloud looming over him, volatile. Things could go extremely well or quite poorly and he has no way of telling which. People with anxiety don’t have a ‘gut feeling’. Their gut _always_ says this will end badly, you need to run, get the fuck out of this situation before it swallows you…he has no instinct to rely on, no way to calm the festering panic, nothing to do expect wait in anticipation, hoping the words out of Jack’s mouth don’t render him a mess.

“S-Sure,” he stutters. “W-What’s up?”

Jack sits down on Ashton’s bed with a sigh. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry for being an ass. I just really didn’t wanna lead you on…”

Of course Rian told. Rian told Jack his life story and now he pities him. Alex is stuck dealing with the pity and the overwhelming feeling of exposure. It feels like he’s naked in the school lunchroom. His dirty laundry has been aired out for the world to see and that may be dramatic but Jack is the one person who’s opinion matters and now he knows about all the skeletons in Alex’s closet. 

“I’m gonna kill Rian,” Alex mutters. “You weren’t leadin’ me on. I got too attached too fast. That’s my fault, not yours.”

“I still hurt you,” Jack points out. “I never wanted to. I’ve been tryin’ so hard to make sure it didn’t happen but it happened anyway and m’just so sorry…”

“Jack.” Alex reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You told me how you really felt.” His voice cracks. “I can’t hold that against you.”

“I’m so tired,” Jack whispers, closing his eyes. “I’m so tired of bein’ the logical one in this, Lex. You ‘ave no fucking _idea_ how hard it is ta keep sayin’ no…”

Alex swallows hard. This didn’t go well at all last time. He’s already starting to shake. But Jack is hunched over, head in his hands, and the breaks in his voice made it sound like he’s crying. 

It’s now or never.

“Hey,” he whispers. Jack lifts his head and Alex takes another deep breath. This can’t end the way it did last time.

He leans forward and brushes his lips against Jack’s, only this time, Jack doesn’t push him away. They both scoot forward at the same time and he wraps his arms around Jack’s neck, pulling him as close as physically possible and smiling so hard he’s surprised he doesn’t break the kiss.

Finally.

…

“We can’t keep doin’ this.”

Awsten shakes his head, taking Geoff’s hands in his. “We can’t keep hurting each other trying not to hurt each other. Something’s gotta change.”

“But what?” Geoff asks. “What the hell can we do? My nightmares are gonna keep happenin’ no matter what. I told you they’re not a big deal but you don’t believe me.”

“Because anything that gives you a panic attack at 3 am and doesn’t let you fall asleep because you’re cryin’ so hard is a big fucking deal, Geoff!” He snaps. He hates when Geoff does this, makes his problems out to be nothing, glosses over them because he doesn’t think they’re worth spending time on. He hates that someone’s made Geoff feel like he’s not important enough for people to worry about him.

“It’s stupid.” Geoff’s voice is ragged with tears. “I just needa get over it. There’s no other solution. Lucas’ meds aren’t doin’ shit. S’all up ta me.”

“That’s not how PTSD works, Gee.” He reaches forward and lifts Geoff’s chin so he can look him in the eye. “It’s not gonna go away. You’re gonna have ta deal with it your entire life. And it’ll suck, it’ll suck for a real long time. But I’m gonna be there every second. You just gotta let me. I can’t keep feelin’ so helpless.”

“You’re already doing so much,” Geoff whispers. “I don’t wanna be a burden.”

“Oh baby…” Awsten sighs, reaching up to stroke Geoff’s cheek. “ _Why_ do you think that? You’ll _never_ be a burden.”

“They said I was.”

The anger that fills his chest is painful. Thinking about what Geoff’s been through intensifies it. He wants so badly to voice his rage, to make it known how pissed he actually is, but he knows that’s unproductive and will only scare Geoff so he forces it down and tries to replace it with shreds of sweet nothings. Coming up with anything sweet is grasping for straws

PTSD after being molested as a child was too much for his parents. They tossed him out onto the streets because they couldn’t deal with the symptoms. He was a basket case and they couldn’t handle it. They thought he needed to be committed, needed to be shut up inside a mental hospital and pumped full of every drug in the book to even function at a normal level.

What they didn’t realize is that he just needed love. All he needed was someone to hold him on the bad nights and dry his tears and promise forever. It didn’t take any of the symptoms away but it made him feel less alone and that made for a world of difference. 

“You are _not_ a burden.” Awsten’s said it so many times over, but he knows it won’t lose the meaning. And he’ll keep saying it. He’ll say it as many times as it takes for Geoff to believe it. 

They can’t go on like this. The pinpricks of pain every time he moves his arm are proof enough. Geoff’s in pain and he’s guilty and everyone’s unhappy and it needs to stop. He needs to do something, something more than whisper love into Geoff’s skin because as much as he says it’s enough it doesn’t feel like anything.

“Where…” Geoff shakes his head. “Where do we go from here? I’m so fucked up, and it’s clearly not gettin’ any better.”

“Can I…” Awsten trails off with a sigh. “I know therapy sessions are supposed ta be personal so you don’t havta say yes, but…can I sit in on your next one? I know there’s shit you’re not telling me that you tell him because you can say what you want there, and I think it’d help me help you… If you don’t want me there that’s cool though, we can figure out something else…”

“No,” Geoff replies. “That’s a good idea. You can come. You just havta promise not to say anything or get pissed or hurt or whatever.”

“It’s your safe space,” Awsten says. “I’d never wanna do anything to make you feel uncomfortable in it.”

Geoff swipes at his eyes and shoots him a watery smile. “We’re gonna be okay, right?”

Awsten leans forward and brings his head to his chest, holding him tight. “We’re gonna be fine, Gee. I love you so much. We’re gonna get you through this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...have I redeemed myself? Were you guys happy with that? For those wondering, there is definitely going to be more development with their relationship, it's not gonna be all rainbows and sunshine because they're together. Next chapter, Jack and Alex discuss their relationship, Tom's death anniversary, and Vic reflects on what Mike told him. The more comments I get, the quicker you get the chapter.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings - anxiety, panic attacks, abuse, self-harm, depression, suicidal thoughts, and drug/alcohol abuse.

“What does this mean?”

Alex can see the terror in Jack’s eyes. He can feel him shaking against him. His body is tense, rigid in Alex’s arms, and it’s heartbreaking. Jack is so scared and Alex knows it’s not his fault but a part of him feels responsible for turning a strong, composed individual into a nervous, shaky mess. 

He pulls back slightly and brushes some hair from Jack’s forehead. “It means we try, if you’re up for it. See how this goes. If things aren’t working we end it. We take it slow. Whatever you’re comfortable with. This isn’t supposed ta be stressful, Jack.”

“M’a shitty boyfriend,” Jack whispers thickly. “Dunno why you wanna see for yourself before you agree.”

“Stop.” Alex lifts his chin and presses a kiss to his cheek. “I’m the judge of that, and you’re already doin’ amazing. You not wanting to jump into this because you didn’t wanna hurt me? That doesn’t make you shitty, that makes you caring. Kind. Thoughtful. Stop me, honestly, because I could keep goin’ until I run outta adjectives.”

Jack laughs, tears falling down his cheeks. “You’re such an ass.”

“But I’m _your_ ass,” Alex corrects, giggling. “Wait that’s…no, ignore that, oh my god…”

“You’re not a great one, my ass is flat as a board.”

“Oh my god, shut up!” He punches Jack in the shoulder, grinning. His face hurts from smiling. 

Jack leans in shyly. Alex can see his hands shaking still, so he closes the gap quickly, pulling Jack into him and smiling when they part for air. He rests his chin against Jack’s forehead, laughing.

He doesn’t think he’s ever been happier.

…

He pulls his sleeve up and traces the lines on his arm, pressing light enough to sting but not enough to reopen any fresh wounds. He doesn’t need that much. He just needs to breathe. He needs a second to breathe and process and take in the fact that his brother is now the _leader_ of a gang that caused him such hell for so many years.

They kill. They stab and they kill and they do anything they have to to make money. They’re not afraid to fuck someone up for life it means they get what they want. It’s probably changed since he left but the basic ideals are the same. They’re not afraid to use violence, even if it’s against their own people. 

“Fuck Mike, how could you _do_ this?” He cries. He jams his finger into the freshest wound and doesn’t flinch when the pain overwhelms his every nerve. He drinks it in greedily. He needs it. If he can’t have booze or weed this is the next best thing. This is the only thing that’ll help. The only thing that’ll make this easier to deal with. 

He wishes he could permanently erase the time he spent in the gang from his memory. He wishes he could go through a black hole and leave it there. It’s messy and uncontrollable and every time he’s hit with a flashback he feels like his entire body is on fire, like he’s in a room going up in flames and he can’t get out. Suffocated.

His time there comes back jagged, sharp edges and unpredictable endings. He dreams about it a lot. Some nights he betrays them and gets killed, others they catch him in his escape, and on the rarest occasion, he gets out, gets sober, and is able to report them and get the entire thing shut down.

No one knows about it; it’s not a big enough deal for everyone to know about. It’s just more shit he has to deal with, more memories he repressed and numbed with alcohol. He can’t believe Mike isn’t fucked up too. Or if he is, the drugs have pushed it so far back he doesn’t even remember it. New memories have overtaken the old, new torture replaced old misery, only this time Mike is giving the order instead of fearing it.

The thought is nauseating. 

His little brother giving orders to _kill_? He can’t imagine it. Mike used to be the sweetest person on the planet. He wouldn’t hurt a soul. He’s become a different person. It was clear as day when he threatened to kill him.

This Mike is _not_ the same Mike he grew up with.

He doesn’t know who this Mike is.

All he knows is this Mike is not his brother.

…

It’s amazing how quick things can change.

How he can go from being on top of the world to feeling lower than dirt in a matter of days. 

The two days he’s been dating Jack have been some of the best of his life. He never knew such a feeling of unyielding freedom existed. It feels empowering, like he can conquer the world with Jack by his side. It’s sparked something and he doesn’t exactly know what but he knows it’s a new desire for recovery he’s never had.

All of that is slowly draining away as he pushes himself up onto his elbows on the morning of Tom’s death anniversary, a lump in his throat and an ache in his chest. He didn’t realize things could go so south so quickly. He thought he’d be able to ride this high through today and stretch it to his birthday and maybe things wouldn’t be so bad this year.

“Lex?” 

An arm winds around his waist and Jack coaxes him back down to the mattress. He stares at the ceiling, unmoving, biting his lip and trying to delay the tears as long as he can. They’re inevitable but he’d prefer not to start the day with swollen eyes like he’s started every other anniversary.

“It’s gonna be okay.” Jack pulls him into his chest and Alex goes, pliant and exhausted. He lets Jack take over big spoon and doesn’t move when he kisses the side of his head. “You’re gonna be okay, Lex. He’s in a better place.”

“I know,” Alex whispers. “But I wish that was here. We always…we always said after he finished school we’d get a place, I could go live with him. He knew they hated me. He told me to hang on and then he…he didn’t. He left me…”

The tears are burning and closing his eyes doesn’t help. It feels like a rhino is sitting on his chest and it hurts to breathe. Jack tightens his grip and Alex breathes out heavily, a sob escaping.

“Stop holdin’ it in,” Jack instructs gently. “It’ll hurt more.”

“I don’t wanna do this,” Alex sobs. “It hurts too bad, I can’t miss him anymore. I’m so sick of feeling like this.”

“It sucks,” Jack agrees. “I don’t know how it feels but it’s obvious it sucks and I’m so sorry you’re going through it because it sounds like hell. But it’s gonna pass, Lex. It’s gonna pass and time’s gonna go by and eventually it won’t hurt as much. It’ll take time to get there but you will. And I’ll be here every step of the way.”

“M’the shitty boyfriend,” Alex whispers. “We’ve been datin’ for two days and you’re already babysitting the fuckin’ basket case. You probably have other plans, I’m sorry, I can handle this, I’ll call Rian and just-”

“Hey.” Jack cuts him off by pressing a finger to his lips. “Stop. You’re not a burden to me, Alex. I _want_ to be here. I _want_ to be there for you. Believe me, if I didn’t wanna do it I wouldn’t be. I care about you. I want you to be okay. And you’re allowed to not be okay today of all days. It’s okay not to be. It’s okay to miss him. It’s okay to feel whatever you’re feeling.”

“Is it okay to hate him?” Alex’s voice breaks and another sob bubbles up his throat. He swallows. 

He’s never said it out loud before. Rian doesn’t even know about it. 

The guilt is excruciating. The _idea_ of hating his brother for something he’s wanted to do for so long is crushing, pushing down on his shoulders the way the steel plates did. What kind of brother is he? How could he _hate_ Tom for doing this when he’s wanted to do it himself for just as long?

“Whatever you’re feelin’ is okay,” Jack repeats. “I didn’t know him. I didn’t know what he was thinking. But I do know that he meant a fuckton to you and losing him has gotta be the most painful thing. And it’s okay to be mad at him. He made you a promise and broke it. You’re allowed to be angry.”

“He was in pain,” Alex replies. “He was hurting so _much_. And I never saw it. I always made him feel guilty, ‘cause they loved him and hated me and I couldn’t see that they were hurting him too, just in a different way.”

“You were too young to get it,” Jack tells him. “I’m sure he knew that.”

“I’d always tell him how lucky he was,” Alex cries. “Like they weren’t hurting him worse! They made him do so much and he tried to tell them and they wouldn’t listen they didn’t let him do anything he wanted he didn’t have a life I don’t.” He stops, crying too hard to keep going. He buries his face in his hands and tries to scrub at the tears but more keep coming, faster than he can wipe away. 

Jack rubs his back as he continues to soak the pillow with tears. “You’re doin’ great Lex. Just let it all out. You’re gonna be okay, I promise.”

“I miss him so much.”

“I know. I know you do. But he’s up there, watching. And he’s so proud of you. You’ve come so far. Achieved so much. You’re makin’ him so fuckin’ proud, believe me.”

Alex hiccups and sobs and tries to listen, but it’s easier said than done. 

This is too much. 

…

Brendon’s heart is racing.

The machines are gone.

Not all of them, the IV and heart monitor are still there, but the ventilator? The nasal cannula? They’re gone. The scary artificial breathing is gone. The heart monitor is quiet. 

He crosses the room to Ryan’s bedside on shaky legs. Leaning down, he presses his ear to Ryan’s chest and listens. His head is moving. Ryan’s chest is rising and falling and that’s moving his head up and down. 

He’s breathing on his own. 

Brendon feels dizzy. His legs are getting shakier and shakier. He doesn’t know how much longer he’ll be able to hold himself up.

The cast on Ryan’s arm is gone. It’s been replaced by a brace. The cut on his head is almost fully healed. He’s gotten a ton of color back.

Is he dreaming?

Is any of this real?

Is Ryan really going to wake up?

“Ry,” he chokes out. “Baby? Are you comin’ back to me? Are you there? Can you hear me? Please hear me, please, oh god, please come back to me…”

He falls to his knees and it _stings_ when he hits the ground but he ignores the pain. He grabs Ryan’s hand and brings it up to his lips and closes his eyes amidst the tears falling down his cheeks. 

He’s been searching for a sign, a reason to go on, a glimmer of hope in this dark tunnel. He’s been searching for something, _anything_ , to keep him from giving up.

He’s found it.

He’s finally found it.

“It’s okay baby,” he whispers. “Take your time, okay? I’ll wait. I’ll wait forever. I love you. I’ll never stop. You’ll be okay. You’ll come back to me. I’ll wait. As long as it takes. I’m here, Ry.” His voice breaks. “You're gonna be okay. I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? I told you it wouldn't be bad forever. I'm not saying everyone's out of the woods, but... ;) Next chapter, Awsten accompanies Geoff to his therapy session, Patrick finally confronts Pete, and it's Alex's birthday...and Jack has a surprise up his sleeve. The more comments I get, the quicker you get the chapter.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning - rape, abuse, PTSD, anxiety, panic attacks, depression, and suicidal thoughts.

“I think what fucks me up most is how _real_ everything seems. Like, every night it feels like it happens again and I wake up hurting like it just happened. Like he just finished and left me there bleeding and I don’t know what to do.”

Awsten grits his teeth as he listens to Geoff describe his nightmares. He didn’t think it would be this bad. He didn’t think it’d hurt this much. He didn’t think he’d be gripping the armrests of his chair so hard his fingers have turned white just to keep from saying anything.

Geoff isn’t looking at him. He’s turned his body away so he’s completely facing Lucas and Awsten is grateful. He doesn’t think he could bear to see the utter pain in Geoff’s eyes. He has restraint, but not nearly enough to stay in his seat and watch his boyfriend suffer.

“Are your dreams the worst case scenario or what he actually did?” Lucas asks. “Are they exact flashbacks or has your mind kinda…embellished them subconsciously?”

“Exact flashbacks,” Geoff says. “They always end the same. He zips up his pants, tosses mine on the bed, and tells me if I say anything he’ll slit my throat.” He hiccups at the end of that, ducking his head. 

Awsten growls low in the back of his throat, squeezing his eyes shut. He wants to _kill_. He wants to rip Geoff’s uncle to shreds and set fire to his body. This incessant, uncontrollable rage is volatile. He’s trying so hard to make this easier on Geoff, to keep quiet and listen so he knows how to help, but all it’s accomplishing is further rage and a desire for murder. He doesn’t know how he’s gonna last another forty-five minutes.

“So meds don’t work, grounding only helps temporarily…” Lucas glances over at him and winces. “Awsten, you okay?”

“Fine,” he chokes out. “Sorry.”

“If you need to leave, you can. I’m sure Geoff won’t mind.”

“If it’s too much you can go,” Geoff agrees. “I told you it was bad.”

“It’s fine,” Awsten replies. “Just…I love you, s’all.”

“I love you too,” Geoff mumbles. 

“Alright Geoff,” Lucas continues. “There’s one more thing I wanna try. Were you in the group I told to journal?”

Geoff shakes his head. Awsten glances up, biting his lip. “Um, I was. I’ve been tryna do it. It helps a little. Sorry if I’m like, interrupting or whatever, but…”

“No, you’re fine,” Lucas tells him. “It’s good for Geoff to hear. So he’ll believe it’s more than me talkin’ shit.” He smirks. “But seriously, I want you to try writing down your nightmares. Every detail. Don’t leave anything out. And then write your reaction. Anything that’s in your head should be on paper. Maybe getting it out of your head and into the world will help.”

“I’ll try,” Geoff whispers. “I’ll try anything. I want this to stop.”

“Now Awsten.” Lucas turns to him. “Since you’re here, I wanna talk to both of you about Geoff’s PTSD and your relationship. Go ahead and sit with him, kiddo. Love on him. You look like you’re about to explode.”

“Oh thank fuck,” Awsten breathes. He crosses the room in one motion and plops down on the couch next to Geoff, slinging an arm around his shoulders. Geoff’s head flops down onto his shoulder and he closes his eyes. 

“M’so tired,” he mumbles. “This better not take long.”

“It won’t,” Lucas assures them. “I just needa tell you guys a couple things and then you can go to bed. It’s messy, reliving this shit. You need some rest. Awsten, Geoff told me about your relapse…because you were worried you weren’t doing enough for him and wanted to punish yourself. That’s not the way to go about this, kid. There are other ways you can help.”

“I just…I don’t feel like m’doin’ enough,” Awsten sighs. “He’s in so much pain and all I can do is tell him I love him and he’ll be okay? That’s nothing.”

“It’s more than you know,” Lucas says. “I have PTSD too. And my wife is where you are. And some days she wishes she could do more, she wishes she could’ve prevented the years of abuse that gave me it in the first place. But she can’t. She holds me and tells me she loves me and reminds me it’ll be okay. You know what that is? That’s grounding, Awsten. You’re grounding him. You’re coaxing him out of his panic attack and reminding him that he survived and he’s loved and he’ll be okay. One of the worst things about PTSD is being trapped in your head, being trapped in the memories, and what you’re doing is getting him out. So don’t get discouraged. He’s gonna get better. And you’re helping so much more than you realize.”

…

“I don’t wanna do this.”

“Shut up,” Jack mumbles, kissing his cheek. “You’re gonna love it.”

“I thought I got to pick what we did. It’s _my_ birthday, isn’t it?” Alex grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Jack rolls his eyes. “You woulda picked stayin’ at home and feelin’ sorry for yourself. We’re not doin’ that. Trust me, when you see what I got in store you’ll be thankin’ me.”

“I’d be thanking you if I were in bed right now,” he mumbles under his breath.

It’s been a shitty couple days. He’s been in a fog since Tom’s death anniversary. The world is too much. He doesn’t want to see anyone or talk to anyone or face reality. The only thing that sounds appealing is curling up in bed and pulling the covers over his head, avoiding everything. He was fine in his little bubble, why does it have to be popped now?

“I just want you ta enjoy today,” Jack murmurs, resting his hands on his waist. Quinn and Jordan are walking up ahead, talking quietly. They’re still in the parking lot. He has no idea where it’s leading to. He still doesn’t know the area very well. “I know things are shitty, but it’s your birthday Lex. You deserve to have a good day.”

Alex shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets. Jack kisses the top of his head. 

He hates this. He hates how shitty he feels because this is his dream. A day out with his new boyfriend? He’s been dreaming about it for weeks. He’s been imagining it, picturing different scenarios in his head for months. And now it’s finally happening and he can’t get his mind off Tom long enough to drink it all in.

“Alright kids.” Jordan and Quinn stop at the end of the parking lot and turn to face them. “You’ve got the rest of today to yourselves. Mama and I are gonna go for a walk then we’ll head on home, okay? Call when you’re ready to come home or if you want us to take you somewhere else.”

He nods, forcing himself to smile. Jack’s arm tightens around his waist. 

“And Alex, hun, try to have fun, okay?” Quinn says gently. “I know you’re hurting, but Jack’s got something really special for you, you deserve to enjoy it.”

“You’re gonna be okay, kiddo. We’re so proud of you.”

“Happy birthday, babe.” Jordan and Quinn both press kisses to his forehead before making their way onto the trail. He squirms under their touch, waiting until they’ve turned their backs to turn into Jack and hide his face.

“I don’t…this is too much, Jay. M’sorry. I can’t do this. Whatever you have planned, I’m sure it’s great, I just…”

“Stop.” Jack brings his arms up to wrap around Alex’s back. “Breathe, okay? I know. I know you’re a mess. I wouldn’t do something ta make it worse, m’not an idiot. Just lemme show you.”

Alex swallows and nods. He lets Jack lead him, closes his eyes and keeps his face against Jack’s chest, just walking blindly forward.

“Alright Lex, take a look.”

Alex freezes.

They’re standing at the edge of a grassy clearing almost completely enclosed in foliage. There’s a large blanket spread out over the grass and picnic basket sitting next to it with a speaker on top. Jack even managed to string the trees with fairy lights.

“This…you…”

“I know you,” Jack chuckles. “I had mama make us lunch and I made you a really chill playlist. I thought we’d lay here and watch the clouds. Talk if you want but we don’t have to. Whatever you wanna do.”

All he can do is stare. Jack leads him over to the blanket and they both sit down and he finds himself leaning against his boyfriend’s chest, watching the sky with tears in his eyes because his brother might be dead but he’s probably up there watching and smiling so fucking hard because Alex has the best boyfriend in the world.

“I love you.”

…

“Can we talk?”

Pete scrambles through his closet, shoving a bunch of hangers to the side. “Goin’ to the hospital. Ryan’s off the vent, there’s hope. Bren needs me. I’ll be back later though, we can talk then.”

“Pete.” Patrick’s voice is small. He sounds like he’s been crying. 

Pete stops. He ducks out of the closet and turns around. “’Trick, what’s wrong? Did someone say somethin’? You okay? I know lunch was a lot, did you purge? Shit, I’m so sorry, I-”

“Pete,” Patrick repeats, shaking his head. “I’m fine. No one said anything, I didn’t purge, I’m fine-”

“Oh good, okay. I’m gonna go but we can talk tonight, I-”

“But you’re not.”

He freezes mid-spin. He whirls back around to face Patrick, rubbing a hand over his face. “What are you on about, ‘Trick? I’m fine. We talked about this. It’s just been hard, with Ryan and helping Bren and everything. But he’s gettin’ better. He’ll wake up and Brendon’ll be okay and you and I can go back to normal, everything’s gonna be fine.”

“You’re not taking your meds.”

His heart is speeding up. He stares into Patrick’s eyes solidly. “How do you know?”

“I went through your drawers,” Patrick answers. “And I know what you’re gonna say. You’re gonna be pissed. I had no fuckin’ choice, okay? You weren’t talkin’ to me. I needed to know what was goin’ on.”

“So _ask_!” Pete cries. “Don’t fucking _snoop through my stuff_!”

His body feels like it’s on fire. He’s gritting his teeth and clenching his fists. He wants to punch a wall. There’s this anger, this white-hot rage, like someone flipped the switch from calm to chaos. 

“You’re not takin’ your Risperidone. You’re not touchin’ me. You’re not the same and I knew something was wrong and I needed to know what. And now that I know I’m worried, Pete. You’re not okay. This isn’t okay. We needa do something.”

“I’m fine!” Pete snaps. “I just don’t need them, okay? I’m not crazy. I don’t need pills. I’m fine and everything is fine and you had no fucking right to go through my stuff. You don’t get an all-access pass to my life just ‘cause you’re my fuckin’ boyfriend. I deserve privacy and you don’t get ta invade it.”

“I was scared!” Patrick shoots back. “I can’t go through this again, Pete. I can’t do it. I love you and I don’t want to lose you but I can’t do it again.”

Pete stops. 

The room is spinning around him. It’s an out-of-body experience, like he’s watching from the sidelines, watching his body move and react but not actually making those decisions cognizantly. 

“I would _never_ hurt you like that again,” he chokes out, voice breaking. He takes a step forward. Patrick flinches.

Patrick _flinches_.

He thought they were past this.

He thought things were okay.

He was wrong.

“You’re scared of me?” 

Patrick swallows hard. “I don’t want to be.”

“I swear I would never I won’t I promise it won’t happen again,” he rambles. He doesn’t know what he’s saying anymore. All he can think about is Patrick’s terrified eyes and shaking hands and bare chest slicked with sweat. All he can picture is Patrick’s timid ‘yes’ when everything about his body said no. All he can remember is his erection throbbing and Patrick’s heart racing and the _hunger_ , the _desire_ , wantingandneedingneedingneeding.

And he would’ve done it.

And Patrick would’ve let him.

Patrick said yes when he meant no, he would’ve done it, he would’ve let himself be _raped_ if it meant keeping his boyfriend happy. He wouldn’t have said no he would’ve let it happen he would’ve let Pete exert his _power_.

And now Patrick is staring at him with the same terrified look in his eyes and his throat feels like it’s closing up and his vision is getting blurry.

He’s gonna be sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? The last couple lines from Pete and Patrick's conversation are borrowed from somewhere...can you guys guess where? ;) Shit's gonna hit the fan from here. I've got the next couple chapters done, and trust me, you're not expecting anything that's about to happen. :P Next chapter, Vic talks to Mike again, there's another game room conversation, Pete has his session with Lucas, and things with Ryan take a turn... It's a doozy. Extra long and extra powerful. The more comments I get, the quicker you get the chapter.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning - abuse, anxiety, panic attacks, PTSD, rape, depression, and mentions of suicide. 
> 
> This one's a doozy.

“Thanks for wantin’ ta do this.”

Vic shoves his hands in his pockets and forces a smile, staring out at the open trail in front of them. “Sorry, y’know, about last time. It was kinda a lot.”

Mike shrugs. “It’s cool. If it’d been me I woulda freaked. I know what you saw was really bad, but it’s not like that anymore. It’s not that bloody.”

“Have you killed anyone?” Vic asks nervously. He isn’t sure he wants the answer. He doesn’t know whether he’s ready for the truth. It’s a bitter pill to swallow.

Mike sighs. “Vic…”

“Have you?”

“Once,” Mike mutters. “He knew too much. He got in and wanted ta get out but we’d already let him in on everything. He woulda ratted us out. We couldn’t take chances.”

He feels numb. He can’t say he’s surprised but it’s an indifferent feeling, anesthetizing. 

His brother is a _murderer_.

“C’mon Vic, don’t be like that,” Mike mumbles. “M’not some kinda psycho.”

“You’re just as bad as they are,” Vic says lowly.

“Just ‘cause you couldn’t handle it doesn’t mean it’s not for everyone,” Mike growls. “It makes me feel alive, more alive than I’ve ever felt. It’s a rush coke can’t give you. It’s so _exciting_ , Vic. Not like what you got, wakin’ up to the same thing every day, being controlled by people. Doesn’t it feel _suffocating_? You don’t get ta do anything you want.”

“The fuck?” Vic shoots back. “I wake up to a boyfriend that loves me, a house I feel safe in, people I consider parents, and more friends than I ever had in Pierce the Veil. It’s not boring. It’s not suffocating. It’s _calm_. It’s not the rush you’re talkin’ about but that’s not everything. I _like_ knowing what’s gonna happen every day, wakin’ up to the same life, not having to be on the run and alert all the time. I like not fearing for my life. It’s not thrilling, it’s _terrifying_.”

Mike whistles. “Goddamn. You’ve gone soft, Vicky. What happened to you?”

“Pierce the Veil happened to me,” Vic growls. “Stop actin’ like it’s a fucking palace. You have _no idea_ what I went through for you.”

“Because you didn’t let me take anything myself! If you weren’t so busy “protectin’” me maybe you wouldn’t be so fucked up!”

“And you would be!” Vic cries. “Do you think I wanted that for you?”

“It happened anyway!” Mike shouts. “If you’d just let me take my shit at least it wouldn’t have been your fault!”

Vic shrinks back. He kicks at a stray pebble on the ground and doesn’t meet Mike’s eyes. “I know, okay? I know I’m shit. But I turned it around. I got sober. I got _better_. I have everything I’ve ever wanted, Mike. I want a _life_. Sneakin’ around, always scared, on the run all the time? That’s not a life. At least not one I wanna live.”

“We’re real different Vicky,” Mike breathes. He wrangles a small pack and lighter from his pocket. Inserting a cigarette into his mouth, he lights it quickly and blows out a cloud of smoke. “But you gotta admit you’ve gone soft.”

Vic turns away from the smoke, waving at the air uncomfortably. “And you gotta admit you’ve gone hard.”

Mike chuckles. “Tony’ll agree with that.”

“Hm- wait, _what_?” Vic stares in disbelief as Mike erupts in another peal of laughter.

“Tony and I’ve been together almost four years now. He kinda…put me back together after you left. Showed me how ta work my way up. Gave me all the inside info. He got me to where I am. Wouldn’t have made it without him.”

“How is he?” Vic asks. “And Jaime? We didn’t really get ta talk about him when I met him…”

“Turtle’s great,” Mike replies. “Asshole, but I love him. And Jaime’s my right-hand. Dunno where I’d be without him. They take care of me, Vic. It’s not all killin’ and stealin’, y’know. It’s a family. They’re my family.”

Vic shrugs. He thinks of his own family; Kellin and Quinn and Jordan and Awsten and Geoff and Jack and Alex and everyone else in the group home. 

As much as Mike wants to talk up the gang and his “family”, Vic knows for a fact that his family is far superior.

And that’s enough for him.

…

“About fuckin’ time.”

“I knew it!”

“You guys owe me 20 bucks!”

“Aw dammit, couldn’t you guys’ve waited two more weeks? I’m out 20 bucks!”

Jack shrugs, pulling Alex onto his lap and leaning down to peck his lips. “Not my fault you decided to _bet_ on our fuckin’ relationship.”

“It’s good though?” Ashton asks. “You both seem happy…”

Jack smiles. “I…yeah. I didn’t think it’d make me this happy but…he’s amazing. I just wish I’d realized it earlier. Could’ve saved both of us a lotta hell.”

“At least you figured it out,” Awsten says. “Having someone is the best fuckin’ feeling in the world.”

“Ryan’s off the vent,” Brendon speaks up. His voice goes soft almost immediately. “The doctor said not to get my hopes up, but him breathing on his own is a really good sign…”

“Holy shit.”

“Thank fuck.”

“That’s amazing, Bren…”

Brendon shrugs. “I’m really tryin’ not ta get excited, but…I…having him back would change everything.”

“You’re so strong,” Luke gushes. “I don’t know what the hell I’d do if it were me.”

“It won’t be.”

“Mikey-“

“It _won’t_ ,” Michael says sharply. He kisses the side of Luke’s head and grabs his hand. “I’m not leavin’ you.”

“You can’t control that,” Frank mutters. “Shit happens. I’m sure Ryan didn’t ask to get hit by a car.”

“What’s the point in worryin’ about what _could_ happen?”

“Better than bein’ blindsided one day.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“ _You’re_ fucked up!”

Jack watches the argument unfold lazily, tilting his head back and beginning to graze his fingers through Alex’s hair. He smiles sleepily as Alex’s head flops onto his shoulder.

“Tired,” Alex mumbles, closing his eyes. 

“Me too,” Jack sighs. “S’okay. Sleep. I’ll carry you to our room later.”

“I don’t know what’s more weird, the fact that you just said _our_ room, or the fact that you think you could actually carry me to it.”

“The fact that you’re gonna go down in history as ‘biggest asshole ever’.”

“You love me,” Alex sings. 

Jack can’t help but grin, looking at the boy in his arms. He presses a messy kiss to Alex’s forehead and lets his own eyes slide shut. It’s warm and Alex smells amazing and everything is just so perfect. 

He really does. 

…

He can’t believe Patrick told.

He can’t believe he’s sitting in front of Lucas who’s probably told Jordan and Quinn and began cooking up a plan to make _sure_ he takes his pills. Crushing them into food, slipping them into drinks, the works. 

He’s gonna be watched like a hawk and people are always gonna be on him and it’s gonna be miserable. Everything’s gonna change. He’s not gonna have anymore privacy or any time to himself and it’s all Patrick’s fucking fault. If he’d just kept his damn mouth shut none of this would’ve happened. 

He didn’t even _know_ Patrick was still not over the incident. He thought it was over and they were done talking about it, but then there he goes, bringing it up again, talking about how scared he is. Is he really that terrified? It’s been almost two years. He hasn’t said anything about it in over a year. Surely it’s still not _that_ big of a deal. 

At least, he hopes so.

He can’t go through this again.

“Can we just skip the lecture? I know what you’re gonna say.”

“I’m not gonna give you a spiel on taking your meds, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Lucas replies. “I’d be a hypocrite if I did that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Being bipolar sucks, kid,” Lucas says. “And this is part of it. You don’t wanna take your meds because you don’t think there’s anything wrong with you, you think you have it under control, but you don’t. You don’t have control over it, _it_ has control over you. It’s unpredictable. Mania is unpredictable as fuck and you _don’t_ wanna end up in a situation where you’re completely losing control and don’t even realize it.”

“But I’m doin’ better!” Pete protests. “I’ve felt the best ever recently. Isn’t that a sign I’m becoming more stable? That I can eventually get off the meds?”

“Yeah, if you had regular depression,” Lucas deadpans. “Manic depression is entirely different. People with depression, my wife, for example, doesn’t take her anti-depressants anymore. She’s in a good enough place not to need them. But I’ll always need mine. I’ll always need the mood stabilizers and anti-depressants and anti-psychotics. Because bipolar disorder isn’t something that can be cured and the symptoms won’t go away with time like they do with depression.”

“I just…I hate it,” Pete whispers. “I hate that I gotta be on pills my entire life. I hate that I gotta take ‘em every day just to be _normal_. I hate bein’ the crazy one. I hate that ‘Trick has ta put up with me. I hate all of it. I don’t wanna do it anymore.”

Lucas nods. “I know that feeling. I get it, believe me. And it fuckin’ sucks. I have those days too. Mental illness is a bitch and bipolar disorder is one of the worst ones. But when you’re stable and when your balance is right and when your meds are working it doesn’t feel like there’s anything wrong and if you take them like you’re supposed to your bad days won’t be as bad. You’ll still have ‘em but not nearly as shitty as what they would be without the pills.”

“The only reason I still take ‘em is Patrick,” Pete confesses. “I don’t give a shit about me. I just can’t hurt him again. I already feel like I fucked things up too bad to fix them, I just…”

“You didn’t,” Lucas tells him. “Things are always worse than you think. But Patrick _is_ scared and things _won’t_ get better if you don’t take your meds. I think the reason he’s still not over it is because you guys haven’t really talked about it. You buried it and stopped touching him until he was ready again and that was it. You needa talk. You needa make him see that you won’t hurt him. Skipping out on your meds is doing the opposite.”

“That’s why I’ve been stayin’ away,” Pete mumbles. “If I’m not touching him I’m not risking it. And I don’t havta take them. Everyone wins.”

“Except your relationship. That’s a great plan if you’re tryna lose everything.”

“What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

“You keep drifting, he’ll get tired of it.” Lucas shrugs. “Whatever you have, or _had_ , will fizzle out and die while you try so hard to keep from hurting him that you’re hurting him worse. He doesn’t want you walkin’ on eggshells. He wants you to _talk_ to him. He wants you to assure him things are gonna be different. This isn’t gonna get better if you don’t talk about it. You can’t brush it under the rug and hope it gets better on its own.”

“What if…what if he doesn’t wanna be with me anymore?” His voice breaks. “What if he realizes how shitty I am and gets tired of puttin’ up with me and just leaves? I mean, there’s tons of guys out there who _wouldn’t_ pressure him into doin’ something he doesn’t wanna do. Why does he even keep me around?”

“Because he loves you.” Lucas rolls his eyes. “Love isn’t conditional. There’s no off switch. He loves you no matter what. It’s why my wife stayed with me even after I did the same thing ta her. What you did doesn’t change who you are unless you let it. You’re _not_ a shitty person. You did a horrible thing, but you _know_ it was horrible. You know it was wrong and you promised not ta do it again. That’s enough for him.”

“It shouldn’t be!” Pete exclaims. “I don’t know if I’d forgive me if I was him! I don’t know if I _could_!”

“Well he can,” Lucas says. “And he did. So what are you gonna do about it? Make him doubt whether forgiving you was right? ‘Cause that’s what you’re doing.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Pete confesses brokenly. He covers his face with his hands and lets tears fall. “I’m fuckin’ everything up…”

“No you’re not,” Lucas assures him. “I promise you’re not. You just gotta stop this ‘trying not to hurt him’ thing you got goin’ on. It’s not working. You two needa talk, clear the air, and you need to start taking your meds. Give him a reason to trust you again. And ease into it. Don’t jump into sex tomorrow. And don’t walk on eggshells. Let him tell you when he’s uncomfortable. He’s gonna hate it more if you coddle him.”

“Do you really think we can survive this?” Pete asks, teary-eyed and achy. He swipes at his eyes and tries to swallow against the large lump in his throat.

“My wife and I did, and she actually said no,” Lucas mutters. “I almost didn’t listen. And we have three amazing kids. Our marriage is the best it’s been. It’s a thing of the past. But we got there by talking. Communication is so important, kid. Without it you got nothing. So do yourself a favor and stop locking shit up. Talk to your boyfriend. You’ll be surprised how easy it is to solve problems that way.”

…

“Hi baby.” Brendon grips Ryan’s hand and brings it up to his lips. “Tomorrow’s Christmas. It’s been a couple days since I’ve been here, I’m really sorry. I, um…I thought I was gettin’ better but I really wasn’t and I haven’t been eating and mama forced me to eat and I couldn’t so they made me go ta an emergency therapy session and wouldn’t let me come for a bit. I just…I thought you’d be awake by now. Christmas is in a couple days. I thought you’d be here for that…I just…I’m tryna be happy that you’re off the vent but it’s like nothing’s different. You’re still in a coma and I’m still the crazy person talkin’ like you can actually hear me.”

He sighs, shaking his head. He doesn’t know how much more he can take. It’s _not_ different, Ryan’s _still_ in the coma, and everything seems so…slow. He expected things to move quicker after the vent. Things would magically start happening and Ryan would start getting better and eventually come out of his coma and everything could go back to normal.

But that’s not the case, nothing is happening like that, and it’s all just exhausting. He’s so tired of waiting. He’s tired of being in this hospital, being forced to hold Ryan’s hand and talk stupid crap about how much he loves him when in reality he wants to shake his shoulders in hope that it’ll rouse him. 

He thought it would be good. He thought this was finally a glimmer of hope, that things were finally looking up, he thought he’d finally be _happy_. But It’s been over a week and Ryan’s still not awake and things are still not improving and he knows he should be happy about the vent but he wanted more and that’s not happening. He wanted this to finally be over and it’s not and all of it sucks and he just wishes he could catch a fucking break.

“I wanna die,” he whispers, squeezing Ryan’s hand. “And I know that’s not what you wanna hear, but you _can’t_ hear so joke’s on me. I wanna die so bad because I know you’re gonna and at least I’d be with you. At least I’d be fuckin’ _happy_. It’d be better than this. I wanna just not eat until I die of starvation but no one will let me do that. Cutting’s not reliable and I don’t have any pills. I just…I’m tired of waitin’, Ry. I should’ve known you weren’t gonna come back to me. I shoulda stopped hoping. I’m done hoping.”

Ryan’s heart monitor starts beeping rapidly. It seems to set off an alarm because a flurry of doctors and nurses rush the room, shoving him out of the way and barking orders at each other, calling for equipment and injecting things into Ryan’s IV and trying to figure out what’s wrong.

Brendon watches in utter terror as the monitor flatlines. 

His heart is the one that stops.

“He’s crashing!”

“Pressure’s dropping!”

“Paddles, gimme the paddles! Charge to 300!”

“300!”

“Clear!”

He never thought he’d see something this horrifying, but watching them try and literally _shock_ Ryan back to life, watching his body jolt like a limp ragdoll…

He turns his head and his stomach surges up his throat and onto the floor. His heart is racing. He’s dizzy. Everything is spinning. He can’t breathe. His throat is closing up. The nausea is still swelling. Nothing feels right nothing feels okay 

RyanisdyingRyanisdyingRyanisdying.

And he’s dying with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...extra long chapter, but...
> 
> I have nothing to say for myself. I know you're about to come for me in the comments, and I honestly don't blame you, lol. Just know that next chapter will answer all your questions. Aftermath, aftermath, aftermath. Oh and a Jalex and Peterick scene thrown in. It's already written, so the more you yell at me in the comments, the quicker you get the chapter.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings - anxiety, panic attacks, suicidal thoughts, depression, eating disorders, bipolar disorder, and mention of rape.

“What’d they say?”

“His heart just…stopped. They’re tryna revive him, but…”

“ _Shit_.”

“Did Bren…”

“He saw the whole thing.”

“I’m goin’ to the hospital.” 

“Pete-”

Pete grabs his jacket and fixes Quinn with a glare. “He’s gonna need someone. He can’t be alone right now.”

“I’ll drive you,” Jordan says, reaching for her keys. They leave quickly and once the door slams shut the silent tension that’s fallen over the room becomes amplified.

“What the hell are we gonna do?” Alex asks. His heart is sinking and he feels sick. One glance around the room tells him that everyone is basically in the same place. No one knows what to do. “How is he gonna _survive_ this?”

If Ryan dies, everything’s gonna change. _Brendon’s_ gonna change. Brendon will never be the same. Nothing will. They’ve all been through some really tough shit, but death on this level is new. It’s something none of them knows how to handle. None of them can relate. _Thinking_ about Jack’s death has him nauseous and dizzy. He can’t even imagine what Brendon’s going through.

“I don’t know,” Quinn mutters. “I really don’t.”

…

“You needa go in there.”

Brendon shakes his head. “I can’t…I can’t see his dead body. I can’t do it. Just tell me.”

“You _need_ to _go_ in there,” Pete repeats with emphasis. His eyes are wild. “You needa see it for yourself.”

“Why? So the last image I have of my boyfriend’ll be his lifeless body?” Brendon growls. “No. _No_. His heart _stopped_. He’s fuckin’ _dead_. I don’t needa see it to believe it.”

“You are so stubborn,” Pete mutters. Brendon winces as he grabs his arm and pulls him out of the chair, rubbing the spot where Pete’s hand was irritably. 

“That fuckin’ hurt! Just leave me alone, dammit. If something happened to Patrick I wouldn’t be this on your ass.”

“Will you just shut up and follow me?” Pete keeps a tight hold on his arm, leading him down the hall, right to Ryan’s room.

“No, okay? No. I can’t do this please don’t make me I don’t wanna see him like this I don’t,” he rambles, tears running down his cheeks. “Please don’t make me I can’t do it.”

“Stop.” Pete turns around to face him, hand on the doorknob. “Just look.”

He turns the handle and Brendon clenches his fists, squeezing his eyes shut. Nothing can prepare him for what he’s about to see. The image will be engrained in his head forever. 

“Hi B.”

He stops.

He’s dreaming.

He’s dreaming it’s not real none of it is real. 

He opens his eyes and just _stares_.

Ryan is sitting up in bed, grinning at him.

He’s dreaming.

It’s not real.

He’s dreaming he’s dead he’s in heaven it’s not real Ryan’s not awake. 

It’sadreamit’sadreamit’safuckingdream.

“What’re you waitin’ for? Come gimme a hug.”

He runs.

Crossing the room in a couple strides, he reaches Ryan’s beside, grips the railing, squeezes his eyes shut, lip quivering.

Ryan’s hand slips into his own.

Ryan can move his hand.

Ryan’s _awake_.

An arm wraps around his back, pulling him in, and he bends at the waist to push his nose into Ryan’s shoulder, tears spilling from his eyes. 

“S’okay B. Everything’s okay. I know I put you through hell and I’m sorry. But it’s gonna be okay. Everything’s gonna be okay, I promise.”

Brendon sobs. He cries and he sobs and he tries to burrow as far into Ryan as possible, tries to drink him in, breathe in the scent that was previously antiseptic and disinfectant but is now just _Ryan_. He tries to breathe, tries to calm down, tries to remind himself that his _boyfriend_ , the boyfriend he’s presumed to be dead for the past couple hours, is holding him and stroking his hair and rubbing his back.

It’s overwhelming in the best way.

…

Ryan’s heart is breaking.

Brendon hasn’t let go of him in two hours and while he wants nothing more than to stay curled up with his boyfriend for all eternity, he’s slowly starting to realize how bad things got in the past two months. 

Brendon feels like a skeleton. His limbs are so bony and Ryan can feel his spine and every single one of his ribs through his sweater as he holds him. His face is thinner and he has dark bags under his bloodshot eyes. Stubble’s growing in and his hair is a greasy mess.

He’s swimming in the sweater, emaciated. That explains the shivering, the shaking despite it not even being cold. The entire thing is just so earth-shattering and Ryan hates that his body had to fail him in the way it did only because of how badly it destroyed Brendon.

He had no control of how long it took his brain to heal but he really wishes he did because this is too much to bear. Brendon hasn’t stopped crying and hasn’t let go of him and hasn’t let him get a word in edgewise and it’s sweet until it isn’t. Until he realizes how much Brendon relied on him and the reality of what happened hits him in the face. 

Brendon coughs then, startling Ryan out of his thoughts as he begins to choke on tears. He lifts his head and presses a hand to his chest, wheezing. 

“Bren, hey, breathe.” He reaches forward and pulls Brendon onto the bed next to him, supporting him with one arm and rubbing his chest with the other. Brendon’s head flops onto his shoulder as he takes some deep breaths, finally managing to calm down.

“You okay?” Ryan asks, kissing his cheek. “You look like hell, babe.”

“I feel like shit,” Brendon mutters. “But you’re here, you’re _alive_.” His voice breaks on the last word. “That’s all that matters. I’ll be okay.”

Ryan sighs. He pulls Brendon a little closer and holds him a little tighter and breathes him in a little stronger.

He really hopes so.

…

“So Bren’s gonna sleep at the hospital tonight.”

“I can’t believe he woke up.”

Alex sets a tray of hot chocolates on the coffee table. He grabs two mugs and hands one to Jack as he curls up next to him. One of his favorite things about their relationship is how _comfortable_ it is. Every time he joins Jack on the couch he sits down next to him and instinctively curls into his side. Their bodies just _fit_ , like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. It’s something he’s always seen, like with Jordan and Quinn or Geoff and Awsten or Michael and Luke. There’s a hidden connection he never understood until now. Until he felt it for himself.

Jack smiles tightly as he takes the mug. He doesn’t raise it to his lips. Alex knows it’s because there’s too much sugar in the drink. Jack’s been doing better lately – eating a majority of the food on his plate, eating every meal, even sneaking some snacks in, but he’s not nearly out of the woods. Unaccounted sugars bother him and Alex knows this hot chocolate is another item on the list in his head of things he’s not supposed to have.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, tilting his head up to kiss Jack’s cheek. “You’re beautiful and your body is beautiful and I love you.”

Jack’s smile falters. He turns his gaze to Alex, teeth worrying his bottom lip. “You can’t tell me m’beautiful and expect it ta help. It doesn’t…it’s not that easy.”

“I know,” Alex murmurs. “Trust me, I know. It’s not changing anything. I just wanted you ta know. You see yourself as disgusting but I think you’re the most beautiful person on the planet.”

“You can’t fix me, Lex.” Jack’s voice breaks. “You can’t love this away. So please stop tryin’.” 

He rises to his feet and sets his untouched mug back on the tray, walking out of the room.

Alex sits back against the couch with a sigh. He’s not mad at Jack. He’s not hurt. He knows this is hard. He knew it’d be an immediate issue. He wants to help and he wants things to change but he doesn’t know how. 

“Don’t go after him,” Geoff advises from his right. “He needs a minute. I learned the hard way with Aws. Love doesn’t work. Telling him he’s beautiful feels patronizing.”

“That’s not what m’tryna do, though,” Alex replies. “I just…I thought he should know how I see him…”

“He does,” Frank mutters. “That’s the problem. He knows you think he’s beautiful which makes him feel worse because he thinks he’s a cow. And then he wonders what you see in him and if you’ll leave if he doesn’t start thinking better of himself and then he starts to hate himself for not being able to do that. It’s a shitty cycle.”

“It doesn’t go away,” Luke adds. “I used ta tell Mikey he’s beautiful all the time and it just made him feel worse. You got the right idea, just…it’s not that easy. You see it as being sweet but they see it as you trying to change their mindset because you’ll leave if they don’t.”

“There’s a lot I gotta learn,” Alex mumbles. “Fuck, man. This is harder than I thought.”

Gerard shoots him a small smile. “No one said it was easy.” He pulls Frank closer and tilts his head to kiss his hair. “But trust me, it’s worth it.”

…

“I’m sorry.”

Patrick whirls around at the voice.

His heart started speeding up as soon as he heard it and he hates that. He _hates_ that Pete makes him nervous now. 

“You talked to Lucas,” Patrick says, trying to keep his voice steady. “Don’t come in here and try ta fix this because he told you to. You gotta actually _want_ to.”

“I do,” Pete breathes, closing the distance between them. He drops to his knees in front of Patrick and looks down at his hands. “Um…can I?”

His voice is so timid, so unsure, and Patrick hates that even more. He hates that holding his boyfriend’s hands is a question. He hates that Pete is nervous around him. He hates that their relationship has been an act, a cover up, and dissolving it reveals the true horror beneath.

It’s not them. It’s never been. They’ve always been the stable ones. Everyone else is busying fighting and they have their picture perfect romance, comfort and security and stability that makes everyone else jealous. No one knows what they’ve had to hide to get there. No one knows what goes on behind closed doors, like some nights Patrick lays awake while Pete snores beside him because he’s too afraid to go to sleep in case he wakes up victim of another manic episode.

He lives in fear that the slightest thing will set Pete off and he doesn’t wanna do it anymore. He doesn’t want to be scared. It’s exhausting. It takes so much from him, not being able to relish the comfort and breathe in the love. 

Pete grabs his hands and forces his him to look at him. “I’m so _sorry_ , ‘trick. I love you so much, I had no idea you were still not over what happened…you didn’t- you didn’t talk to me. You didn’t say anything. I didn’t know. And you’ve been hurtin’ all this time and I didn’t give a shit and that kills me more. Please, ‘trick. Talk to me. Tell me what you’re feeling. We gotta do this or it’ll destroy us.”

“I didn’t…there was never a right time,” Patrick mumbles, squeezing Pete’s hands. “After it happened your meds were changed and things got bad and I wanted to be supportive and then you were doing a lot better and I didn’t wanna say anything and tear you down again. I know it’s been hell for you and I didn’t wanna make it worse…”

“What about you?” Pete exclaims. “It was worse for you! I’m not the only one in this relationship! How you feel matters ‘Trick. It matters so fuckin’ much and I’m so sorry if I’ve ever made you feel like it doesn’t.”

“I’m so scared,” Patrick confesses. His stomach is churning and his heart is racing. “I’m scared all the time. I don’t know if you’re takin’ your meds, I don’t know if they’re workin’, I don’t know _anything_! So I’m always scared you’ll lose control again and I won’t expect it and I’ll be back there and I can’t breathe and it all just.” He stops, chest heaving, squeezing his eyes shut.

“You’re okay,” Pete murmurs. “You’re doing great. Just breathe.”

“I’m sorry,” Patrick chokes out. “I don’t want you ta feel guilty…”

Pete sighs. “I fucked up, babe. I deserve to feel guilty for it. It’s not gonna break me. I fucked up and I hurt you and this is because of that and I needa own up to it. There’s no one else ta blame. So tell me everything and don’t worry about how it makes me feel because whatever it does isn’t nearly as important as the shit you’ve had to hold inside for almost two years.”

He lets another sob escape and then Pete is surging forward, pulling him into an embrace that Patrick relishes. He buries his face in Pete’s shirt and cries, cries for what he’s had to hide for two years, how bad it’s broken them, what their relationship has come to when finally ripped open.

But most of all, he cries for the simple fact that he doesn’t know if it’s salvageable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...are we better now? Are you guys happy? Just know that even though Ryan's awake and things are good, Brendon isn't gonna magically get better. A lot happened during those two months and some of the damage is irreparable. Next chapter is Christmas, which involves Jordan's family coming over, Alex having a conversation with her brother, and finally, some well-deserved Muke and Cashton. The more comments I get, the quicker you get the chapter.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings - anxiety, mentions of suicidal thoughts, depression, and panic attacks.

It doesn’t feel like Christmas.

Christmas is a time of joy and happiness and family and togetherness but he’s getting none of that in this room. 

They’re all here, sprawled out over couches and armchairs. The tree is lit beautifully and the presents underneath are piling up. The house is decked out in wreaths and tinsel and there are fairy lights everywhere. It looks like a scene from one of those Hallmark Christmas movies, the picturesque family.

But it’s not.

Geoff and Awsten are dealing with Geoff’s nightmares, Pete and Patrick are on the verge of breaking up, Vic’s still in a funk, Brendon’s got the damage Ryan’s two month coma did on full display, and Jack’s managed to retreat back into himself, going back to not wanting to eat and not being able to get down half a meal. 

Things aren’t as bad as they could be or have been, but it’s not good and everyone is upset and it just doesn’t feel like Christmas. It should be a happy holiday and it’s not. Festivity doesn’t travel by osmosis. 

“Can we open presents yet?”

“Hey mom, when’s your family comin’?”

“Is Brendon even gonna come back today?”

“Mama’s making hot chocolate and just got the last batch of cookies out of the oven, so once she joins us, we can start opening gifts,” Jordan replies. “My family and Quinn’s dad are gonna be here later, probably after lunch. And Brendon’s spending Christmas with Ryan. I don’t think he’s up to all this right now. It’s better if it’s low key.”

“He’s a mess,” Pete agrees. 

“Aren’t we all?”

“Dammit, not today, _please_.”

“Jesus, what crawled up your ass?”

“It’s _Christmas_ ,” Awsten grumbles. “I don’t wanna think about the mess I am today, okay? None of it matters. M’not gonna let it ruin today.”

“Optimistic.”

“You know what-”

“Enough,” Jordan mutters. “Awsten’s right. It’s Christmas. No fighting on Christmas. But don’t feel pressured to hold in your feelings because of today. If you’re havin’ a bad day, you’re havin’ a bad day. That’s it.” She fixes them all with a glare as she stands. “I’m gonna go help mama bring everything out. _Don’t_ kill each other.”

“Doesn’t feel like Christmas,” Jack sighs. He turns to rest his head on Alex’s lap and stares up at the ceiling. Alex grazes a hand through his hair and leans down to kiss his forehead. “God I feel like shit.”

“I guess…so many shitty things happened this year, s’hard to be happy,” Ashton says. “I just…I wanna feel it so bad but I don’t…”

“Happens every damn year for me,” Gerard speaks up. “I wanna be in the mood but I’m not and then I feel like shit because I’m not, it’s a huge mess…”

“I feel that so hard.”

“We never did anything,” Alex sighs. “My parents hated holidays. We, um…they were just regular days. We-” He cuts himself off when his voice cracks and swallows hard. “We stopped celebratin’ them after my brother died. S’like he took our holiday spirit with him.”

“Lex…”

“That’s so shitty, I’m sorry.”

“S’okay,” Alex mumbles. “I just…I really don’t feel it this year. I don’t think any of us does.”

“I’ve been trying.” Awsten’s voice is soft. “I’ve been trying _so_ hard to be festive and get in spirit because I thought it’d make me happy. I thought it’d make this easier but it hasn’t. Nothing’s different and I hate it.”

The silence that drapes over the room accentuates the collective depression. This isn’t an easy day for any of them. The holidays are messy and complicated and spark way too many old feelings and honestly, all Alex wants is to forget. 

All any of them want is to forget.

Too bad it’s impossible.

…

Alex can’t breathe.

His heart is racing and his palms are sweating as he looks around the room at all the new people. Quinn only has her father here, but Jordan has both parents and three siblings, two of which are married with kids of their own. Granted, one of those kids is Gerard’s brother, but they’ve never formally met so in Alex’s head he’s a new person.

There are voices everywhere, punctuated by peals of laughter and slurps from glasses of eggnog. It feels too big, too _much_ , like sensory overload. His mind can’t process all of this this quickly. It’s working as fast as it can but adding more and more family members he doesn’t know is slowing everything down.

Jack’s arm around his waist is grounding, tethering him to reality. He’s taking animatedly with Jordan’s dad, smiling and laughing all the while. Watching the exchange only makes Alex feel worse because Jack makes it look so easy. He’s unperturbed by the influx of family. If any of this is making him anxious he’s hiding it perfectly. It’s so annoying.

Alex wishes he could get _close_ to that point. 

“You okay?” Jack pauses to whisper in his ear, breath warm against his skin.

“I’ll be back in ten,” he replies. “Needa get some air.”

He squirms out from under Jack’s arm and makes his way out to the porch. He slams the door behind him and stops short when he realizes he’s not alone.

The man is leaning against the railing, sipping at a coffee. He smiles at Alex. “You needed air too? It was gettin’ kinda stuffy in there.”

“Y-Yeah,” Alex stutters, biting his lip. He keeps his head down and tries to focus on his hands. They won’t stop shaking. _He_ won’t stop shaking why is he shaking it’s not stopping why won’t it stop. “Who-who are you again? Sorry, I just…there’s so many of you…”

The man chuckles. “I’m Logan, Jordan’s little brother. My husband and I adopted your friend’s brother, Mikey?” 

“Oh yeah,” Alex replies. He doesn’t know what else to say. He hates how he gets in these situations, unsure of himself and panicky about what he can say and how it’ll be taken. He’s not comfortable enough to say anything without being judged. After being able to do only that, this is nerve-wracking. 

“Anxiety’s hard,” Logan says. “I have it too. It sucks. But breaks like these help a lot.”

“I just…I thought it’d get easier and it hasn’t,” Alex confesses. “I’ve waited so long for it to go away but it hasn’t and I dunno how much longer I can keep doin’ this.”

“Your whole life,” Logan tells him. “Anxiety never really goes away. You just gotta learn how to manage it. It gets easier after a while. After you get some coping mechanisms and freak out enough times to know that what you’re freakin’ about isn’t actually that big of a deal. And therapy helps a lot. I don’t know whether my sister’s got you on anti-anxiety meds, but they work wonders. Just in case you wanna try.”

“I don’t…I don’t know,” Alex says. “Jordan said I didn’t have to take meds if I didn’t want to, but…it’s just so bad. And I don’t know how to deal with it. So meds might be my last option…I just…the idea of relying on pills…I’m weird about it, I dunno why.”

“Because they make you feel like a freak,” Logan supplies. “Trust me, I get it. I felt the same way when I first started. But they really did help. And I don’t take them anymore. I combined them with therapy to get a handle on things and when I finally felt comfortable and didn’t need the extra support, I got off. They’re not a permanent fix. They’re just a crutch while you sort out the actual problems. You’re not on them your whole life.”

Alex sighs. “I just…it’s stupid. It’s _nothing_. They’re just people. And they’re your family, not some random strangers. So why the fuck am I so scared? Jack’s fine, everyone else’s fine. It’s just me being a wimp all on my own.”

“Not necessarily.” Logan shrugs. “You’ve never met any of us before. The other kids have. We’re not strangers to them. But we are to you. And there are a lot of us. Amar and I and Mikey, Mia, Sarah, and Olivia, Brooke and Thomas, and mom and dad. That’s ten new people. That’s a lot. It’s okay to be nervous. I’d be off the walls if I were you.”

“I just want it ta stop…”

“It will,” Logan promises. “One day, it’ll stop being so bad and stop making your life hell and you’ll finally know what it is to live without the constant voice in your head. That may not be today or tomorrow, but it _will_ happen. And in the meantime, all you gotta do is focus on finding ways to cope. Anything is good. Just find things to do that help you relax and lessen the symptoms. And then you can work on changing things that cause them. Take it one step at a time. It’ll happen, I promise.”

…

Michael notices the forced, plastered on smile that’s made its home on Luke’s face. He’s in the middle of a conversation with Jordan’s niece, trying to grin and bear it, but Michael knows he’s starting to get burnt out. 

He steps forward and slips an arm around Luke’s waist, pulling him in close. Luke’s melts into his touch and lets him take a lot of his weight, still trying determinedly to focus on what Olivia’s saying. “Hey Liv, can I steal Luke for a bit?”

She shrugs. “You’re not gonna go sneak off and have sex are you?”

“No!” Michael replies, affronted. “We’re not animals.”

“What about last Thanksgiving?”

“Shut up,” he mutters, herding Luke away and into an empty corner of the room. He steers Luke over to the wall and pushes him against it. One of the best things for someone on the verge of a panic attack is grounding, and he’s learned that for Luke, touching something concrete helps him stay in reality. Feeling the wall against his back is perfect. “You okay baby?”

Luke rubs a hand over his face with a sigh. “Yeah. Thanks for gettin’ me outta that. Don’ get me wrong, I love Liv, but…”

“She’s a little much sometimes,” Michael finishes. “I get it. S’hard for everyone. Alex looks like he’s gonna pass out.”

“Geoff and Awsten didn’t even bother,” Luke tells him. “They asked mama if they could stay up in Geoff’s room and she said yes. It’s not fair.”

“Awsten ran out of Xanax yesterday,” Michael replies. “They haven’t had time ta get more and with everythin’, with Geoff…he’s not in a good place already. If she made them come down here he’d probably have a panic attack and make everything so much worse. They’re not gettin’ out of it because she likes them better or something.”

“No, I know…” Luke shakes his head. “It’s just…it’s hard. People expect so much from me because I haven’t freaked out in a while and I can’t do it. And then I feel like I’m disappointin’ them and it sucks even more. I just…I’m so tired of it. I want things ta be easy.”

“You’re not disappointing anyone,” Michael says firmly. “I am so proud of you. Being here takes a lotta courage, especially with anxiety as bad as yours. You’re facin’ your fears and I know it’s not easy and I know you’re kinda a mess but I’m so fuckin’ proud, Lu. You’re doing so much better.”

The pink tint that comes over Luke’s cheeks is adorable. Michael leans in to peck his lips and rests their foreheads together. “I love you. I know shit’s been kinda a lot recently and you’ve been kinda in hell and I’m sorry.”

Luke cups his cheek with a small smile. “Not your fault. M’okay. Just…dunno how much longer of this I can handle.”

“We’ll go upstairs,” Michael promises, kissing him again. “We’ll go upstairs and cuddle and I’ll give you kisses and it’ll all be okay.”

Luke’s smile is brilliant. 

It turns to laughter, music to his ears, as he lifts Luke bridal style and practically runs up the stairs. He’s sure Jordan caught a glimpse of them and they’ll definitely get hell for it later, but every peal of laughter from Luke’s mouth makes it worth it.

…

“Thanks, you guys. I know my family’s kinda a lot, so thanks for bein’ good sports about it. They all send their love.”

It’s the day after Christmas and the festivities are slowly coming to an end. Things are slowly returning back to normal – as normal as can be considering New Year’s is in about a week and things will spiral then too. 

Ashton shifts Calum in his arms, pushing up against the couch cushion. Calum whines, scooting back to rest his head in Ashton’s lap. “Stop movin’, m’tryin’ ta sleep.”

“It’s 3 in the afternoon,” Ashton deadpans, leaning down to peck his lips.

“Your point is?”

“You’re such a weirdo.” Ashton giggles, brushing a finger across Calum’s cheek. Calum grins back up at him.

“You’re datin’ me.”

“Sometimes I wonder why.”

“You love me.” 

“Debatable.”

“Alright.” Quinn joins them in the room, calendar in hand. “Geoff, Vic, Pete, and Frank, you guys have individual appointments with Lucas tomorrow, so don’t make plans. He wants to have a session with each of you guys now that the holidays are just about over, just to check-in and see where things are. So be sure to tell him anything on your minds, okay? He’s there to help, use him.”

“What’s gonna happen with Bren?”

“What do you mean?”

“He look like a fuckin’ skeleton,” Frank deadpans. “Ryan’s awake. What are we gonna do? Because I’m tired of watching him turn into a corpse.”

“It’s not that easy,” Jordan sighs. “He put himself in a deep hole during all of this. It’ll take a lot to come out of it. That is, if he even _wants_ to come out of it. He’s in a dark place, guys.”

“Ryan’s back. What more does he want? What he’s been waitin’ for for the past two months is finally here. Isn’t that some sorta sign that he should get better?”

“Maybe, for you. But suicidal thoughts and depression don’t go away even when your life gets better. He got himself into the hole, and trust me, it’s a lot easier to get yourself in than it is to pull yourself out.”

“I just want us all ta be happy,” Ashton says. “Things’ve sucked so much over the past few years. I wanna have some happy times. And before you say it, I know it doesn’t just happen and I know it won’t happen overnight. M’just sayin’…happiness isn’t that overrated. It’d be nice.”

“It’d be so nice…” Awsten agrees. “Happiness is so fucking underrated. I don’t get people who’re bitter all the time. Like, you only got one life, the fuck do you wanna spend it bein’ an asshole for? It feels so much better to be fuckin’ nice to people and not hate the world ‘cause it’s not that bad.”

“Happiness feels so fucking good,” Jack says. “I don’t think I knew that until Lex and I started this thing, whatever it is, but now…I dunno. I don’t think I’ve ever really been happy till now. I thought I was but I was just lyin’ ta myself. Happiness isn’t guaranteed, ya gotta work for it, but once it finds you…it’s the best fucking feeling in the world. It’s better than any drug.”

“As someone who’s done most drugs, I can fully agree with that.”

“Vic!”

“What? It’s the truth!”

Kellin ruffles his hair and pulls him into a kiss. All around the room, Ashton watches the shameless depictions of PDA with a smile. The domesticity of it all is heart-warming. Watching it brings that warm, fuzzy feeling into his chest and he relishes it. Ever since the fire, he’s been hard-pressed to find anything that brings him the familial happiness he had when his parents and siblings were still alive.

This comes close.

“Love you,” Calum whispers. He sits up and turns to kiss Ashton’s cheek, and Ashton pulls him in closer for a real kiss, closing his eyes.

He’s been desperate for a family ever since his own was ripped away from him, and now he’s finally found one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? I'm pretty far ahead in writing, and guys...some twists are headed your way. Be prepared. ;) Next chapter is a lot of Gawsten...although it's far from happy, as you're all probably used to. Geoff learns the true extent of his capabilities while he's having a nightmare, and it's about to change everything for him and Awsten. Oh, and Brendon speaks up about how he's feeling since Ryan woke up. The more comments I get, the quicker you get the chapter.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavy trigger warnings for rape in this chapter, along with suicidal thoughts, self-harm, depression, anxiety, and panic attacks.

“No no no! Stop! Please! I’ll do anything I swear please don’t!”

Awsten watches helplessly as Geoff struggles, fighting with the blanket while still in throes of sleep. His grip on his hair tightens as Geoff kicks out at the air, tears streaming from his tightly closed eyes.

“Geoff,” he starts, voice wavering badly. “It’s me. It’s Awsten. You’re havin’ a nightmare. Everything’s okay, you’re safe.” He tries to go for what he would want to hear if the roles were switched, tries to think of things that’ll ground, but it feels like he knows absolutely nothing. It feels like someone’s scooped every last bit of knowledge out of his brain and left him empty.

He takes a tentative step forward and extends a shaky hand to Geoff’s shoulder. “Please, baby…wake up. It’s okay. You’re safe.”

“Nonono!” Geoff’s foot flies out once again. The next few moments are a blurry mess. Pain erupts in his face. His cheekbone and eye are stinging. He brings a hand up to the injury, tears welling in his eyes.

“Geoff…” He cries, covering his throbbing eye with one hand. “Geoff, please…”

He doesn’t know what to do.

It’s three in the morning and his groggy, half-asleep mind isn’t working. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know how to wake Geoff up and he doesn’t wanna risk getting kicked in the face again. His throat feels thick, tongue too big for his mouth. The tears just keep coming, faster and faster until he can’t see through the watery film.

Kellin and Vic are in Geoff’s room. He doesn’t want to wake them. He’s all alone. He has to handle this by himself but he doesn’t know where to start. Should he try and wake Geoff up again? Wait until the nightmare passes on its own? Get Jordan or Quinn? He’s never had to do this before. He doesn’t know what to do.

“Geoff,” he repeats. Geoff is still thrashing, tangled up in the blankets. The lines on his forehead speak wonders. He’s red-cheeked and crying, fighting an imaginary war in his dreams.

It hurts so bad. Awsten’s heart is throbbing in his chest as he watches his boyfriend cry and fight, knowing he’s fighting off someone trying to _violate_ him. He’s gotta be _terrified_. Geoff is a complete mess and all he can do is stand there and watch with baited breath, hoping the terror ends soon. 

It’s not enough.

He needs to do something else.

Awsten shoots forward quickly, grabbing Geoff’s shoulder, and shakes. He shakes hard, finally managing to startle Geoff out of sleep. He blinks rapidly and curls up into himself, looking around the room frantically.

“What…what happened…” Geoff mumbles. “I don’t…I was dreamin’…” He looks up, and his gaze passes over the tears on Awsten’s cheeks and the hand still covering his eye. “Did I…oh my god…did _I_ do that?”

“You were havin’ a nightmare,” Awsten chokes out, willing his voice not to break. Unfortunately for him, it does just that. “You didn’t know what you were doing…”

“Aws…” Geoff shakes his head, throwing off the blanket and scooting to the edge of the bed. He holds out his arms. Awsten hesitates, biting his lip. He can see the guilt in Geoff’s eyes. It’s growing every second he holds back. He’s already blaming himself.

They’re not gonna be able to brush over this.

It might be what destroys them.

…

“What the _hell_ happened?”

Alex stares at Awsten’s black eye and swollen cheek, heart sinking into his stomach. “Did _he_ do this…?”

Awsten grabs his arm and steers him into the empty family room. “Keep your voice down, jesus christ!” He pauses, looking down at the floor. “He was havin’ a nightmare. It’s not his fault. He didn’t know what he was doing.”

“This isn’t okay,” Alex mutters. “He needs help, Aws…”

“He’s gettin’ it!” Awsten snaps. “The hell do you think the sessions with Lucas are for? He sees him more than he sees me at this point! It’s _not_ his fault!”

“Okay, okay.” Alex holds his hands up in surrender. Awsten’s working himself up and he’ll never get anything out of him if he starts having a panic attack. He’s not entirely convinced but that’ll have to wait. “Relax. It’s not his fault. But you gotta do something…this can’t happen again.”

“I know.” Awsten’s voice is a lot smaller and a lot quieter. “I just don’t know _what_ to do. I don’t know how to help. I thought I could handle it, but…” His voice breaks. “It’s just getting so much worse…”

…

“Ryan’s home. And I should be happy but I’m not and I can’t stop thinkin’ about how I almost _lost_ him and every time I do it I start crying.” Brendon’s voice is thick and choked with tears. 

Jack winces, squeezing Alex’s hand tighter as they watch. Group therapy is not what it’s stacked up to be. Brendon’s clearly still hurting, Pete and Patrick can barely look at each other, and Awsten is sporting a black eye and swollen cheek, courtesy of one of Geoff’s night terrors.

“What’s bothering you?” Lucas asks. “The fact that you almost lost him or the fear of losing him again?”

“Both,” Brendon replies immediately. “The world’s not…it’s not safe. Nothing’s safe. Riding a bike isn’t safe, what is anymore? And I just…” His voice cracks. “If he’d died I would’ve died with him but at least he’d be safe? At least I wouldn’t have to feel _this_ anymore…”

“You accepted it,” Lucas says. “You accepted that he was gonna die and made the plan to kill yourself, and now that he lived…you feel like you should be happy but you never anticipated it so you don’t know what the hell to do. Right?”

Brendon nods. “I mean, what kinda person wishes his boyfriend _died_ …?”

“You’re not wishing he died though,” Alex points out. “You’re upset because you don’t know what to do now that he _didn’t_ die. You don’t know how ta live.”

“I don’t think any of us does,” Gerard speaks up. “Anyone who’s been suicidal, I guess. Like you plan and you accept that plan and you think it’s all gonna happen like that and when it doesn’t, when you _survive_ , it’s great and all, but you’re like, what the fuck am I gonna do now?”

“That’s how I felt,” Frank mutters. “After I, y’know…I told myself I was dying. I didn’t account for living.”

“That’s so fucked up.”

“We’re all fucked up.”

“Brendon,” Lucas interjects, diverting the conversation back to its root. “This isn’t a bad thing. It’s okay to feel disoriented. Your plan was thrown off and you havta adjust and it does kinda suck. But it means that you get to make a new plan. It means that your new plan includes you and Ryan being happy together, getting to do things and go places and see the world, all of which you wouldn’t have been able to do if you were dead.”

“I dunno if I _wanna_ do any of it.”

Jack gulps as he listens to Brendon go on and on about suicide and death and how much he wishes his life were over. He moves his gaze over to Alex, watching the intense look of concentration he has on Brendon.

He can’t say it doesn’t bother him.

He can’t say it doesn’t _scare_ him.

He knows Alex is suicidal and he knows he self-harms and it’s always at the back of his mind, gnawing at his nerves uncomfortably. Suicide is unpredictable. He could wake up in the morning to find that Alex didn’t. He could walk in on him accidentally having cut too deep. Suicide isn’t always purposeful. Sometimes you cut too deep, sometimes you take one too many pills, sometimes things just happen that you have no control over.

Jack’s never been a fan of the unknown.

…

He’s been staring at the wall for hours.

Or at least, what feels like hours.

Seeing the purple ring around Awsten’s eye and the red tinge to his cheek made him feel sick. He barely made it through the group therapy session. He sat across the room and tried not to look and he saw the pain in Awsten’s eyes but he forced himself to ignore it. 

He can’t risk hurting him again. The nightmares are bad, worse than they’ve ever been, and he can’t control them. He doesn’t know what he’s doing and Awsten shouldn’t suffer because of it. The fact that he _kicked_ him in the _face_ is just…too much for Geoff to wrap his head around. He had no idea it happened until he woke up and found himself face to face with the damage he caused.

He’s dangerous. He’s dangerous and unpredictable and Awsten should stay away from him. All he’s ever done is hurt him. All he’s ever gonna do is hurt him. And that…knowing that…it’s too fucking much. He loves Awsten but he can’t hurt him again. 

The dreams are just so violent. What happened wasn’t nearly as bad. He didn’t fight it. He was too young to know what was happening. He didn’t realize that being locked in a dark room and faced with his uncle taking his pants off wasn’t normal. The worst part was _how_ normal he made it seem, like this happened to every kid, like he was awful if he didn’t enjoy it.

He didn’t know it was rape. He didn’t even know it constituted as _sex_. He thought it was something every kid had to go through, no matter how painful the entry was. He thought it was part of growing up.

Thinking back to it now makes his stomach turn. And he wonders, why him? 

Why not one of the other cousins?

The thought has crossed his mind frequently, and he hates himself a little more every time. He really is horrible, wishing it was one of his other cousins, wishing this had happened to someone else. They don’t deserve it but he didn’t either. _No one_ deserves it. 

Sometimes he lets his mind wander and he finds himself in that place again and his throat starts closing up and he can’t breathe. He _thinks_ himself into a panic attack and he has no control of it and it’s both overwhelming and terrifying.

Throughout the entire thing, he’s been afraid of how it would affect Awsten. He didn’t want his past to become a burden, another obstacle Awsten has to deal with. Their pasts affect each other and it sucks because Awsten’s dealt with enough of his own hell. He doesn’t need Geoff’s trauma on top of that.

This is his worst nightmare come true. He’s dreamt it before – accidentally hurting Awsten and losing him in the process. He doesn’t blame him. Who would wanna be with someone who gave them a fucking black eye? Awsten’s left him in every dream and Geoff hasn’t argued. It’s what he deserves. 

The real Awsten…the real Awsten is too sweet for that. He’d put Geoff before himself in a heartbeat and that’s the scariest part. Awsten doesn’t care about himself, not enough to put his needs first. He’s not thinking of his best interest, so Geoff has to.

He has to break up with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Do you guys think Geoff's right in wanting to break up with Awsten to keep him safe? Keep in mind, it's not because he loves him any less; he thinks he's dangerous and doesn't want to subject Awsten to that. He confronts Awsten in the next chapter, along with Alex having a therapy session, and Ryan visiting the group home for the first time since his accident which allows him to see the full extent of the damage it's caused for Brendon.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning - depression, suicidal thoughts, anxiety, panic attacks, mentions of rape, mentions of PTSD, and self-harm.

“Do you think I need medication?”

Alex spits out the question nervously, watching Lucas’ face for signs of a reaction. If he’s surprised he doesn’t show it, nodding thoughtfully.

“Do _you_?” Lucas asks. 

“I dunno, um…it feels like everyone here has meds and I don’t and maybe that’s why they’re doin’ better.”

He’s seen it. Most of the bottles are kept in Jordan and Quinn’s bathroom. Dangerous things can happen when too many pill bottles are left lying around a bunch of suicidal kids. He knows Pete has his meds in his room, and Frank must too. He’s not sure why they get to while everyone else doesn’t. He’s been in the middle of a late night conversation with Ashton and gotten interrupted by Ashton remembering he never took his meds and jumping up to ask Jordan or Quinn for them. 

“Medication isn’t magic,” Lucas tells him. “It’s not for everyone, and even if it’s the right call, we havta try a bunch before we find the right one. With people like Pete and Calum, they _need_ medication to function. But you, even if you wanna try anti-depressants and see how they work, you’re not gonna need them your whole life.”

“What do you mean?”

“Anti-depressants aren’t a cure.” Lucas shoots him a small smile. “You take them while you figure out your life and get yourself more stable, and then you wean yourself off. Same with anti-anxiety meds. They’re not a permanent solution.”

“Do you think I need them, though?” Alex repeats. “Like, am I fucked up enough for it?”

“That’s not how it works, kid. No one is “fucked up” enough to need medication. Sometimes people in really bad places don’t need them and people in slightly better places do.”

“I just…I wanna try,” Alex says. “Like, see if they change anything. ‘Cause things have been good, recently, even with Tom and everything…but I still feel so shitty all the time and I want it ta change. I wanna be able to go on a date with Jack and think about _him_ , instead of how much I wanna put a bullet in my brain.”

“We can definitely try,” Lucas replies. He pulls out his prescription pad and sets it on the desk. “The thing with anti-depressants though, is that there are so many different kinds. I’m gonna start you off on an SSRI. They don’t have as many side effects.” He looks back up at Alex. “A lot of the kids here take Xanax. Awsten’s been on it for a couple years now and it’s the only thing keeping him from completely going off the deep end. It may not work for you the same it works for him, but I think it’s worth a try.”

He scribbles something on the paper, tears it off, and hands it to Alex. Alex glances down at the writing.

_Zoloft (sertraline HCl) – 50 mg, once a day  
Xanax (alprazolam) – 0.25mg, 3-4 times a day, as needed_

“I’m gonna warn you now,” Lucas continues. “These may not be the ones we stick with. It all depends on how well they mesh with your body. Sometimes you gotta try four or five before you find the right one. There are side effects, though. These have nausea, dizziness, and some issues sleeping as the main ones. And be warned, sometimes they cause suicidal thoughts. You feel worse before you feel better. Don’t be alarmed if that happens. It’s just your body trying to get used to the meds. If it gets too bad have your moms call me and we’ll adjust it.”

“Thanks,” Alex breathes, rising to his feet. “It may not work, but if it doesn’t…at least we tried.”

“Exactly,” Lucas says. “Go have your mom fill that tonight so you can start your first dose tomorrow morning. And please, for the love of god, tell that boy of yours that you’re starting medication so he doesn’t freak when you start actin’ different. Geoff freaked the fuck out when I put Awsten on anti-depressants because that idiot decided not ta tell him.”

Alex smiles. “I will, I promise.”

…

“We havta break up.”

Geoff watches the smile drop off Awsten’s face. He goes white-knuckled around his phone, staring at him with wide, tearful eyes. 

“W-What?” Awsten asks, tears already starting to spill. Geoff winces. He was hoping to avoid this. He was hoping to get out of here before Awsten could start crying, leave that for Alex or someone to deal with. It sounds horrible, but watching his boy- ex-boyfriend cry is absolutely heart-breaking. 

“I…I can’t do this anymore, Aws,” Geoff says. He feels like a piece of his own heart has been ripped away. He doesn’t wanna do this. It’s making him feel so sick. The decision the hardest one he’s ever had to make. But he’d rather get off with a clean break than end up kicking Awsten in the face again. 

“Stop lying,” Awsten growls, his voice raspy from the tears. “If you’re gonna break up with me at least have the fucking _respect_ to tell the goddamn _truth_.”

“Aws, I-”

“ _Don’t_ call me that!”

Somehow the anger is worse. It’s hurts more than the tears. Awsten’s glaring at him, eyes narrow and fists clenched. The mix of anger and tears makes it so much worse. He’s starting to wish he never said anything, but the damage has already been done.

He may as well be honest. “I…I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I love you. I love you more than anything in the world. But I just…I can’t do this again, Awsten. I can’t hurt you again. I can’t even _look_ at you… You have a _black eye_ , because of _me_. I did that. I can’t live with myself, knowing I hurt you. And if we stay together it’ll happen again so I just…I’m savin’ you the pain. Trust me, we’ll be better off like this.”

“You are such an idiot,” Awsten growls. He surges forward, and then they’re kissing, long and hard, more passionate than ever before. When they pull away it’s only for air, and Geoff stares at him, bringing a hand up to touch his lips. “You’re not gonna get rid of me that easy.”

“Aws, I-”

“Stop. It’s my turn now.” Awsten presses a finger to his lips with a smirk. “You don’t get to do that, Gee. You don’t get to decide how much I can take. I’ll tell you when it’s too much. I’ll tell you when I’ve had enough. This…you have PTSD, Geoff. And you have nightmares. And yeah, they’re really bad. But what the hell kinda boyfriend would I be if I let you do this? That’s basically me agreeing you’re too fucked up to date. And you’re not. We needa talk to Lucas again and we needa figure something out, but this doesn’t havta break us up.” His voice softens. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I know you wouldn’t _dare_ do it if you were awake. So it’s okay. We’re _not_ breaking up over it.”

“I just- I just thought,” Geoff chokes out. “I thought if I did this, even though it hurts…I’d save you the hurt of having ta do it yourself.”

“I’m _not_ leavin’ you,” Awsten promises, grabbing his shoulders. He pecks his lips. “This is relationships, Gee. They suck sometimes and they’re hard but you get through it. _Together_. You’re in hell and I wanna be there. So please, don’t shut me out. Lemme help you. Lemme decide when I’ve had enough. Okay?”

Geoff nods shakily. They kiss again, and he closes his eyes, wrapping his arms around Awsten’s waist and relishing the touch, the feeling of being so unbelievably close. The moments leading up to this were utterly painful. He was trying to dredge up every second of the last time they kissed, trying to commit every one to memory because he was sure it was their last.

He never thought he’d be happier to have more time.

…

“Ryan!”

“Oh sweetheart, you have no idea how happy we are to see you. We’re so glad you’re okay.”

Ryan grins up at Brendon’s moms, accepting hugs from both of them while trying to balance on his crutches. “Is Bren here? He doesn’t know m’coming, wanted it to be a surprise.”

“He’s upstairs,” Quinn tells him. “But he’s kinda having a hard time…I’m not sure how much you know about what happened while you were…out…but it’s not good. We’re hoping you being here will help him get better…”

Ryan sighs. “No, I know. He’s a mess. I’m so worried ‘bout him. M’gonna try and talk to him about it today. My mom even said she’d be watching him cry holdin’ my hand for days after it happened…he’s really not okay and I’m gonna do whatever I can to help.”

“You need to focus on your recovery too,” Jordan reminds him. “We’ve got Brendon. He has therapy twice a week and we upped his medication, so if things get to be too much for you please don’t worry about it. We’re here to help.”

“I know.” Ryan smiles. He limps past them, toward the stairs. Jordan and Quinn both offer to help him up but he declines politely and hobbles up them by himself. He’s slowly gaining back his independence and he’s not about to give that up.

“Ryan? Holy shit!”

“Hey Pete,” he whispers, putting a finger to his lips. “B doesn’t know I’m here. I’m gonna surprise him.”

“Oh,” Pete whispers back. “Sorry. But seriously man, you look great. M’so glad you’re okay.”

“Me too,” Ryan replies. “Is he in his room?”

Pete nods. “I think he said he was gonna take a shower though.”

“Even better.”

Ryan bids Pete goodbye and makes his way into Brendon’s room. He leans his crutches against the wall and perches on the bed, looking around.

It’s a mess. The bed is unmade. There are numerous dents in the walls and tiny white pills on the carpet. The chair is wobbling precariously, balancing on only three legs. He’s not sure where the fourth is but the jagged edge left in its wake signifies it’s been broken off.

The level of destruction is utterly terrifying.

He had no idea it would be this bad. 

He had no idea it would hurt Brendon this much.

He hears footsteps and sees Brendon walk into the room, towel wrapped around his waist, tapping at his phone. Seeing him shirtless has Ryan’s stomach sinking to the floor. 

He can count his ribs. It looks like there’s no fat on his bones, like the skin’s been stretched out over them uncomfortably. The sick feeling in his stomach grows as he looks a little closer. 

Angry red marks line both Brendon’s forearms, jagged and messy. There are so many of them. There’s almost no free space on his arms. He can’t help but gasp, and that’s when Brendon looks up and realizes what’s going on.

“Ry, holy shit I…” He stutters, staring at Ryan. “I thought _I_ was comin’ to yours, I didn’t expect, I…”

“I wanted to surprise you,” Ryan ventures. “But you’re surprising me…what the hell have you _done_ , B? What have you done to yourself?”

Brendon’s lip starts to quiver. “Don’t…don’t do that. You were gone. I thought you were _dead_. I wasn’t strong enough ta handle it. And now you’re back and everything _should_ be great, but it’s not. It’s fucking not and I don’t know why and I hate that I still feel so shitty and I just.” His voice breaks as a sob escapes. “I don’t wanna do this anymore, Ry. I don’t wanna live anymore.”

“Fucking-” He’s already crying. He stretches out his arms, squeezing his eyes shut. “Come here.”

And then Brendon’s in his arms and they’re both crying, sobbing into each other, Brendon’s damp skin against his neck. “I love you,” he chokes out through sobs. “I love you so much. I’m so sorry I hurt you but I’m gonna fix it I promise I’ll fix it I’ll fix this.”

“I love you,” Brendon says again. They kiss again and then press their foreheads together, wet-cheeked but grinning. 

“I love you,” Ryan replies. “And not that I don’t love your bare ass on my lap, but any chance you’re gonna get dressed?”

Brendon rolls his eyes. “Do I _have_ to?”

“Yeah, you do.” He pushes Brendon off his lap, smiling when he sticks his tongue out. Ryan smirks, slapping his ass and erupting in giggles when Brendon whirls around with a mock glare.

He’s missed this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? So Geoff and Awsten _didn't_ break up, but they do have a long way to go. And as for Jack and Alex and Brendon and Ryan...next chapter goes further into the scenes from this chapter. Alex explains his decision to Jack, and Ryan confronts Brendon once again about his downward spiral. Along with that...Jack has a doctor's appointment that ends...not so well. And guys...I'm about seven chapters ahead in writing. They're all ready, all edited, so it's really up to you. I don't mind posting quickly if I get the response from you guys, so honestly, the more you comment, the quicker I'll post.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys really wanted this chapter, didn't you? :P
> 
> Trigger warnings - depression, anxiety, panic attacks, eating disorders (anorexia), self-harm, and suicidal thoughts.

“I’m gonna start taking anti-depressants.”

Alex watches Jack’s face carefully, looking for a hint of a reaction. He doesn’t know what to expect. Medication is controversial. Some people swear by it and others don’t believe in it. He needs Jack’s support and he’s not sure whether he’ll get it or not. He can’t bear the thought of Jack being angry with him for doing this. “Are…are you mad?”

“You talked to Lucas about it?” Jack asks, grabbing both his hands. “You know what you’re getting into?”

Alex nods. “I just…I wanna feel better, Jay. I wanna not be sad all the time. And this is the first step. I need somethin’ ta change. I can’t keep doin’ this.”

“Then I support you one hundred percent,” Jack says. “Why…why would you think I’d be mad?”

“Because I’m officially crazy? Because I’m gonna have all kinds of crazy side effects? Because you just flat out don’t _like_ meds? I dunno Jack, anxiety keeps winning every fuckin’ battle,” Alex mutters. 

“Hey.” Jack pulls him into a tight embrace and presses a kiss to the top of his head. “It’s not gonna win this one. You’re gettin’ the help you need, and it’s gonna be okay, I promise. And I’ll be there the whole time.”

“I love you.” Alex presses his face into Jack’s chest and breathes in deeply. “Thanks for understanding.”

“I just want you ta be okay Lex,” Jack murmurs. “I want you ta be happy. I worry about you. I don’t always know what you’re thinking and it’s scary. Especially after what happened with Frank and Gee…I just…you could leave me any second and it’s fuckin’ terrifying.”

Alex stiffens. He had no idea Jack felt like that. He had no idea that was even a thought crossing his mind. He lifts his head and pecks Jack’s lips. “Jay, you know I’m not gonna randomly decide to kill myself one day, right? It’s not that bad. I’m okay, I promise.”

“That’s what they all say,” Jack says heavily. “And you get comfortable thinking they won’t actually do it. And then they do. And everything you’ve known is a lie.” His voice breaks. “And you wonder why you bothered getting attached in the first place. Because it’s not worth the pain. It never is.”

…

“So what are you gonna do?”

“What do you mean?”

Kellin stretches his arms out, beckoning Vic with his fingers. “C’mere. Talk ta me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Vic says stiffly, but he goes anyway. He sits down in Kellin’s lap and rests his torso against Kellin’s chest, chin finding the junction of Kellin’s shoulder and neck. 

“Your brother is leader of the gang you ran away from,” Kellin points out. “And you haven’t said anything about it. Do you wanna keep talkin’ to him? Do you wanna forget he exists? What do you wanna do, Vic? I can’t help if I don’t know what I’m doin’.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Vi mutters. “He’s my brother, it’s my problem to deal with. And I don’t even know what I wanna do. He’s my brother but…do I wanna have a relationship with someone who’s _killed_ people?”

“He’s…what?” Kellin tightens his grip around Vic’s body, as if Mike’s standing in the corner of the room ready to kill. It’s a stupid knee-jerk reaction, the way he grips Vic like he’s about to lose him. 

“Only one person,” Vic says quickly. “And he said it was because he knew too much. I don’t think he’s gonna do it again. But I just…I’m scared, Kells. I don’t know if I _want_ to get myself back into this shit. I barely got out last time.”

“Letting your brother back into your life doesn’t mean letting his problems in too. You can have a relationship and not be involved in the gang, y’know…”

“No, I know,” Vic replies. “I just…I thought I was done with that. I thought it was over. I never wanted to think about it again. But now I am and it just kinda sucks I guess. It’s never really over.”

“You don’t _have_ to let him back in,” Kellin tells him. “You can say no. You’re allowed to decide what _you_ want. It’s your life, after all. And besides, you’ve gotten this far without him.”

“Because I didn’t go back,” Vic mutters. “I left him for five years. He deserves something for that.”

“You’re not seriously tellin’ me you wanna let your brother, the murderer and _gang leader_ , who you’re _terrified_ of, back into your life because you feel _guilty_?”

Vic shrugs. “If there’s one thing I learned in the gang, it’s that you make sacrifices for family. You don’t have to like it, but you have to do it. It’s just the way it is.”

…

“Oh Jor, look…”

“They’re adorable.”

“I remember our honeymoon phase…”

“Must be nice ta be young and in love…”

“I really don’t wanna wake them…”

“You already did,” Jack says irritably, pulling Alex closer and burying his face in his hair. “S’ too early for this shit.”

“Mm…Jay?” Alex’s voice is clogged with sleep. “S’goin’ on?”

“Nothing,” Jack murmurs. “Go back to sleep, baby. It’s really early.”

“Um, no can do, kiddo,” Quinn sighs. “You’ve got a doctor’s appointment in forty-five minutes. We let you sleep as late as possible, but there’s a lotta traffic on the 9. We gotta go.”

Jack groans. “Do I _have_ to?”

“It’s a follow-up and a condition by the state, so yes you do,” Jordan replies. “Up. Now. We leave in twenty minutes.”

“Can-”

“Yeah, Alex can come too, as long as you’re both ready and at the door in twenty.”

…

Jack’s heart is racing.

He grips Alex’s hand tighter, staring at the floor of the moving car and trying not to shake. 

He hates these doctor’s appointments. He hates them more than anything. They’re always the same and he always feels horrible after and now Alex is gonna be forced to see him through it. He wasn’t planning on bringing him, but there’s no easier way for him to calm down. Holding Alex’s hand, getting kisses and touches…that’s the best way for his mind to be put at ease and they always tell him he needs to relax more before these things.

It’s way easier said than done. They force him into a room with a strange nurse he doesn’t know who always smells like cigarettes and make him strip down to his boxers. Said nurse also gets to _check_ to make sure he’s not hiding anything (weights) in his underwear. And then he steps on the scale and everything goes downhill from there. They try to get him on and off before he can see the number, but watching the nurse write it down tells him enough.

They expect him to gain weight every time and whenever he does it’s a celebration for them but what they don’t realize is how part of him dies every time he hears the gleeful news. They’re all happy with big smiles and pats on the back and proud of yous but all he feels is fatfatfatdisgustingdisgustingdisgustingstupidfuckingdisappointment.

Because if he can’t even starve right, what kind of person is he? How fucking _weak_ does he have to be not to be able to lose some fucking weight? It’s not hard. Limit food intake and exercise. Easy. Or well, it _should_ be. When people are on his ass forcing him to eat he has no choice. 

And with the state on his back too, with their stupid fucking rules that he has to gain weight steadily to be allowed to stay in the group home, the pressure is so much worse. He almost feels like everyone wants him to gain so he can stay but no one gives a shit about how truly _shitty_ it makes him feel to see the numbers increase. No one knows the feeling of his stomach _literally_ sinking, the ache spreading throughout his chest and all over his body. It’s unbearable.

“I love you.” Alex’s breath is warm against his ear and Jack _melts_. He turns his head and buries his face in Alex’s shoulder, willing himself not to cry. He will not. He will not go in there with red, wet eyes and broadcast his weakness to the entire world. He won’t do it.

“Alright kiddo.” The door swings open and Quinn sighs. “Oh, Jacko…it’s gonna be okay. It’s just a follow up.”

“I know,” he says tightly. He slides out of the car and Alex follows, breaking their clasped hands to slip an arm around his waist. Jack molds his body into Alex’s side, breathing in as they walk into the office. He refuses to have a panic attack. He _refuses_.

He finds himself in an exam room ten minutes later, unzipping his jacket and handing it to Quinn.

“Alright Jack, we’re gonna do the weigh in first.” The nurse looks over at Quinn and Alex. “Would you both step out, please? We’ll just be a second.”

“I love you. I’ll be right outside if you need me,” Alex repeats, getting to his feet. He kisses Jack, wrapping his arms around his waist, and Jack forces a smile. He definitely doesn’t want Alex in the room, seeing his naked body, but not having his comfort here is already making him anxious. Alex squeezes his hand before leaving the room. 

“Everything off, please. Even socks,” the nurse tells him, turning around to write something on her clipboard.

He doesn’t even get the dignity to change by himself. They’re too scared of what he’ll do. The entire thing is humiliating. He pulls off his sweats and slips his t-shirt over his head, already starting to shiver.

“Good, now step on the scale.” He obeys, watching as she starts pushing the weights back and forth to balance it. “Was that your boyfriend?”

Small talk is such bullshit. He manages to summon the strength to give her the tiniest nod. She smiles. “You two are cute. Alright, go ahead and step off.”

He does so, not before catching a glimpse of the number.

_134_

He’s gained almost five pounds.

He’s gonna be sick. 

…

“Can I stay here tonight?”

“You know I don’t care,” Ryan mumbles, nuzzling against his neck. “I sleep better when you’re around.”

“Me too.” Brendon presses a kiss to the top of Ryan’s head. This is nice. This is familiar. They’re back in Ryan’s room with all the lights off and Nirvana playing softly in the background. They’ve been lying like this for hours, Ryan’s injured leg draped over Brendon’s body. He’s on his side and Ryan’s half on his chest. It’s close, close enough that Ryan’s hair is practically in his mouth and all he can smell is his cologne.

He wouldn’t trade it for the world. 

After almost two months with nothing and no one, this is all he wants. This is all he wants for the rest of his life. If he died right now he wouldn’t have any regrets.

“You okay, B?”

“M’fine,” he murmurs. “Just go ta sleep.”

“Your heart’s racing.” Ryan lifts his head and rests a hand on Brendon’s chest to push himself up. “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing,” Brendon says stiffly. “I said I’m fine.”

“And I don’t believe you,” Ryan mutters. “C’mon B. It’s _me_. You’ve never been scared ta talk ta me before. I wanna help but I can’t if you keep me in the dark.”

“Can’t we just go back to everything the way it was?” Brendon replies irritably. “Can’t for one night we talk about something other than the mess I am? Can’t you treat me like _normal_ for _once_?”

“This is exactly what I would’ve done before the accident,” Ryan snaps. “Nothing’s changed. Except you.”

“God, I’m so fuckin’ tired of everyone telling me what a mess I am. Don’t you think I already know? I’m fucked up beyond repair and I’m probably gonna die before the end of this year so can’t we just enjoy the time I have left without talking this shit ta death?”

He only realizes at the end of his outburst what a bad idea it was. Ryan is staring at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. “Shit, wait, I didn’t…that wasn’t…”

“ _That’s_ why I’m worried about you,” Ryan says softly. “Don’t you think I have a reason to be?”

“Ry, I don’t…”

“You _know_ how much it hurt these past two months,” Ryan continues. “You _lived_ it. It was hell for you. Why are you tryna put me through the same thing?”

“You’re not gonna guilt me outta this.”

“No,” Ryan whispers. “I know suicidal thoughts are serious and guilt-tripping doesn’t help. But god B, don’t you get it? I can _help_ you. We all can. Everyone’s here, everyone’s ready to do anything to help you outta this. You just gotta let us. You gotta _trust_ us. Trust that we got your back and you’ll be okay. Don’t quit before you’ve even started.”

…

“Be careful with him today. Love on him. As much and as obnoxious as possible. He’s never in a good place after these checkups. He somehow always finds out how much he weighs and it turns him into a wreck. So just…watch out for him, okay?”

Alex nods. He stretches up to kiss Quinn’s cheek before walking into the house, up the stairs after Jack who ran up as soon as they pulled into the garage. He hopes he didn’t lock himself in his room, alone to deal with his misery. It’s not productive and it’s not fair. He needs the love, he needs to let himself accept that he’s _worthy_ of the love.

Thankfully, the door swings open when he twists the knob, but what he sees inside makes him stop short.

The blood is oozing from Jack’s wrist thickly and he’s making no move to stop it. He’s just staring at his arm, razor poised right above the wound. 

“Jack,” Alex breathes. Jack’s head whips up. He looks like a deer caught in headlights. His eyes are wide and terrified. Alex can see his hands starting to shake. 

He crosses the room in one motion and slowly reaches out to pry the razor blade from Jack’s hands. Jack says nothing as he does so, not bothering to protest. Alex swallows hard, grabbing a bunch of tissues from the box on his desk and pressing them to the cut. He increases pressure, to which Jack emits a shallow whimper, and leads his boyfriend over to the bed. 

“I love you,” Alex whispers. “You’re gonna be okay.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack sobs. His voice is wrecked. “I keep trying and trying and it’s just…it’s not enough. I’m not enough. I never will be.”

“You are, though.” Alex’s heart is breaking. “You _are_ enough. You’re doing the best you can and that is so much more than enough. It’s so much more than me or mama or anyone could ask for. It’s gonna take time and it’s gonna hurt a lot but things are going ta get better love. I promise.”

“When?” Jack cries, looking at him with teary eyes. “M’tired of waitin’, Lex. I’m gainin’ weight but I don’t feel different. Because I’m not. I don’t wanna eat. I don’t wanna gain weight. Nothing’s changed. I’m not getting better.”

“Changing your mindset is a lot harder than changing your eating habits,” Alex assures him. “It’ll come with time. You just gotta listen to Lucas and do what he says and try not to let your mind win you over because it’s wrong. And I know you hate me sayin’ this so I’ll only say it once; you’re so beautiful, Jack. Your body is so fucking beautiful and I always wake up wondering how the hell I got so lucky because my boyfriend is absolutely fuckin’ gorgeous.”

“Lex…”

“I know you hate that,” Alex sighs. “I know it’s not gonna help. But it’s not because I want you to change. It’s not because I’m tired of this. I don’t think I’ll ever be. If you still need help getting a full meal down in five years I’ll sit with you until it happens. I’m okay with that. I love you, Jack. Through everything. I’m here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? It wasn't the happy Jalex you wanted, but...Jalex are happy, Jack's just having a hard time individually. Ryden...well, they're working on it. And they're gonna continue working on it. Next chapter is when things really hit the fan. Geoff has a session with Lucas, Jack finally lets go of the last bit of his reservations and confesses something, Awsten has a therapy session, and Quinn and Jordan receive some news that they deliver to the boys that's gonna shatter everything they've ever known. Like I said before, already written, already edited. It's up to you guys. The more comments I get, the quicker you get it. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Thanksgiving and I'm so thankful for all of you and your neverending support, so I wanted to give you guys a chapter.
> 
> Trigger warnings - rape, PTSD, self-harm, anxiety, panic attacks, and depression.

“I _kicked_ him. In the _face_. How does someone…how do you _do_ that without knowing?”

Geoff sighs, putting his head in his hands. “I don’t…I don’t know what to do…”

“You were having a nightmare,” Lucas reminds him. “You were _dreaming_. You weren’t conscious of what you were doing. He knows that. I’m sure he doesn’t blame you.”

“I tried to break up with him,” Geoff whispers. “I don’t…I _can’t_ hurt him again…I can’t live with myself…but I don’t have control in my sleep and I don’t know what to do I can’t hurt him I can’t do it I can barely look at him because he has a black eye and that’s my fucking fault I-”

“Stop,” Lucas says. “ _Breathe_. It’s not your fault, Geoff. You didn’t _mean_ to do it. You were dreaming and in your dream he was your uncle, trying to hurt you. You reacted normally. It makes complete sense. Yeah, the PTSD is bad and hurting him isn’t good either, but you needa stop beating yourself up for this. You’re gonna destroy yourself.”

“I deserve it,” he says brokenly. “I’m abusive. I abused him. I _hurt_ him. All he was tryna do was wake me up. All he was tryna do was wake me up…” He dissolves in sobs, bringing his knees up to his chest and burying his face in them. 

“Geoff. Look at me, kiddo.” He lifts his head, eyes wet with tears, to meet Lucas’. “You’ve been abused. Your uncle abused you. Abuse, by definition, is to treat someone cruelly or violently, intentionally. That’s what he did to you. But you…you didn’t know it was Awsten. You didn’t see Awsten. You saw your uncle. You weren’t violent toward _Awsten_ , you were violent toward your uncle. And that _is_ justifiable.”

“But how do I stop?” Geoff cries. “Sleeping next ta him is the only way I can fall asleep at all and I haven’t even been doin’ that because I don’t wanna hurt him.”

He hasn’t slept in almost a week. He doesn’t sleep much on a regular basis, but having Awsten curled into his chest, being the occasional little spoon and burying his face in Awsten’s shirt while he rubs his back…those are the nights he sleeps the most. But that’s officially a thing of the past. Every night he lies in his bed, the space beside him cold, tears dampening his pillow, a mix of frustration and loneliness because he misses Awsten so _much_ , but the thought of losing control in his sleep again is enough to resist. He can’t hurt him again. 

“No one said you shouldn’t sleep together,” Lucas tells him. “If it helps you need to do it. And Geoff…unfortunately, this is something you will never have control over. We can’t control the subconscious. All you can do is tell Awsten what to do when you have a nightmare, what works, what doesn’t, so he’ll know for next time and this won’t happen.”

“What do you mean?”

“I scream in my sleep,” Lucas admits. “A lot. The master bedroom in my house is on the first floor and my kids’ bedrooms are upstairs. So I don’t wake them. But I do wake my wife. I don’t have the physical symptoms because it’s my parents that were abusive and even in dreams I know that resisting physically will make it worse. So I scream. And my wife and I _still_ have sleepless nights because of it. Mind you, it’s been over twenty years since I got outta that house.” He sighs. “You just…you learn each other. You learn the signs. My wife knows not to touch me. She just talks, sometimes rubs my shoulder, but mainly just talks to me until I wake up. And nine times out of ten I have no idea what just happened. It’s what sucks most about nightmares. You learn to get used to it.”

“I just don’t want him ta leave me.” His voice is ragged and his chest hurts. “Like, a few years from now, after I’ve punched and kicked him past his limit. Havta make the painful decision to leave for _his_ sake. I don’t want to be too much for him, I don’t want him to feel suffocated, and I…I can’t have him being scared of me. I can’t.”

“You’re not abusive,” Lucas repeats. “I’m gonna have him come in for a session and talk to him about all this too, explain how to handle you when you get bad, but…you’re not abusing him, Geoff. And if he says he can handle it, if he says it’s okay, believe him. You’ve got enough shit on your plate without creating more problems that don’t needa be problems. Focus on getting better. That’s the most important thing.”

…

“Oh, so we’re back to the porno now. Great.”

“He’s literally been in a coma for two months, don’t you fucking dare.”

“Jesus, relax.” Jack holds his hands up in surrender. “It was a joke. And I meant Vic and Kellin.”

“I don’t care,” Brendon mutters, lacing his fingers with Ryan’s. “We get to be as disgusting as possible and you don’t get to say fucking anything.”

“Both of you needa calm the hell down,” Gerard says.

“We’re all together, can we not argue for once?” Ashton asks. “Ryan’s okay, things are finally getting better, can we be happy about that?”

“Ashton’s right,” Luke agrees. 

Jack turns, swinging his legs onto Alex’s lap. He slips his phone into his pocket and reaches for Alex’s hand. 

“And besides, you two are fuckin’ disgusting,” Brendon continues. “You’ve been in the honeymoon phase for like, a month now. You got no room to talk.”

“He has a point.” Awsten smirks at them. “You two are kinda gross.”

“It’s cute though,” Calum says. 

“Domesticity is cuter.”

“And you’re tellin’ me they’re not the definition of domestic?”

“No, they definitely are.”

“Aren’t we all though? Living together makes that kinda easy.”

“I love it.”

Jack silently agrees. Domesticity in a relationship is just so _comfortable_. They always sleep in the same bed, cuddle whenever possible…it’s not that overly loud broadcast of their relationship; it’s the soft touches and subtle gestures that make it what it is. He loves it.

“I love you,” he says, knowing everyone can hear and is watching. He hasn’t said it out loud yet. Alex’s said it more times than he can count, but he’s never pressured Jack to say it back. “I love you so much.”

Alex looks up from his phone. The smile on his face makes the overly public confession completely worth it. He sits up and Alex leans forward. The kiss is long, passionate enough for him to scoot onto Alex’s lap with his legs hanging over the edge of the couch. “I love you too,” Alex murmurs when they pull apart.

“Aww…”

“Now who’s in the porno?”

“Pornos aren’t about feelings, dumbass.”

“Yeah honestly, plot’s the worst part. Just get ta the sex already.”

“How many of these have you watched?” Kellin asks, mock glaring at Vic. “You know ‘em pretty well.”

“I love you,” Vic says sweetly, pecking his lips. 

“Sure you do.”

Vic says something in return but Jack barely hears it. It doesn’t register. All he can focus on is the beautiful boy in front of him, the beautiful boy with a whole world of pain in his eyes and irreparable scars on his heart but still so much innocence inside. The beautiful boy that somehow loves him for the mess he is, the beautiful boy who’s love may not be enough to fix him but is enough to make him want to live.

He always thought it was weird to say that a person saved your life, but now that he has Alex, he knows what it means. He knows what it is to have no motivation to live but live anyway, stay on the Earth for the one person who would miss you, keep going in the darkest times because no matter what there’s one person on this planet who cares enough to have their entire life impacted if you were gone. He knows what it’s like to be needed, to be loved, to be _cared about_ , by someone who isn’t _obligated_ to.

And it’s the best feeling ever.

…

“I wanna know how you’re doing with all of this. It’s a lot to handle, especially when you have your own problems to deal with…it can’t be easy.”

Awsten shrugs. “It’s Geoff who’s goin’ through hell. I just wanna help in any way I can.”

“He kicked you in the face, kiddo,” Lucas deadpans. “And yeah, I know he was having a nightmare, but that doesn’t change the fact that it happened. I know you definitely have feelings about it. Say what’s on your mind. He’s never gonna find out. This is your time to say what you feel without worrying about who it’ll offend.”

“I dunno,” Awsten replies. “Whaddya want me ta say? It was scary? It hurt? It’s not his fault he can’t control it even if it happens again it still won’t be his fault so I dunno why we’re still talking about it.”

“Because it was scary,” Lucas replies. “Because it hurt. Those are valid feelings and you can’t dismiss them. You can’t sit on this, Awsten. Patrick and Pete are in hell right now because Patrick did that for two years. You guys needa talk this out. It won’t work unless you communicate.”

“He can’t control it!” Awsten shouts, tears burning in his eyes. “What am I supposed ta do? It’s not like he’s doin’ it on purpose! He feels as crappy about it as I do!”

“That doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to be scared,” Lucas tells him. “It’s not his fault, I know, but that doesn’t invalidate how it made you feel.”

Awsten grits his teeth. “Can you just tell me how ta help him so I can stop feelin’ like a fucking useless piece of shit?”

“Awsten.” Lucas’ voice is firm. “This is about you right now. We’ll talk about Geoff later. This therapy session is for _you_ , not advice on how to handle him.”

“I’m fine.” He bites the words and tries to keep his tears back. The lump in his throat is building, a wall of emotion fortified by his determination not to let his selfish tendencies take control again. It’s all about him, all the time. It’s time for Geoff to get the spotlight. He refuses to steal it from him again. 

“No you’re not,” Lucas says. “You’re not, kiddo, and you won’t be if you keep goin’ on like this. Stop pretending it’s okay when it’s not.”

“What the hell do you know?” He cries. He feels the wetness on his face and closes his eyes in frustration. So much for keeping it together. “What the hell do you fucking know about me? It’s about _Geoff_. I wanna help and I can’t and I don’t know what to do and I need your help but if you can’t help me if you can’t _do that_ then I don’t fucking care what you havta say.”

The sob bubbles up his throat, and before he can stop it, he’s crying. He buries his face in his hands and tries to stifle the sobs but the attempt is futile. He’s coughing and choking and his head feels too full and everything is going wrong.

The couch dips beneath him with added weight and Lucas begins to rub his back. “Alright, that’s it. Breathe, kiddo. Just try to breathe. You’re gonna be fine. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

The tears just keep coming. He doesn’t remember much after that. His vision starts to blur after a bit, black spots clouding the distorted images he’s already seeing. 

He doesn’t resist the full-on blackness.

…

“What the hell happened to him?”

Geoff stares wide-eyed at his boyfriend in Lucas’ arms, seemingly asleep. His face is red, moreso than it has been the past few days. The black eye and bruised cheek have swollen back up and his hair is messy and sticking up all over the place.

Lucas glances around the room. “Your moms told me to bring him up here…can I put him down somewhere?”

Geoff nods quickly, scrambling off his bed and setting his laptop on his desk. “Yeah, put him down here. What…what happened?”

“He got a little too upset,” Lucas replies, laying Awsten down on the bed. Geoff climbs back onto the bed next to him and tangles his fingers in his hair, pressing a feather-light kiss to his face. “We were talking about what happened and he had a mini panic attack. He’ll be fine, he’ll probably wake up in the next few minutes. He’s gonna have a bad headache though. Make sure he takes it easy tonight.”

“You can’t stay?”

“No.” Lucas smiles regretfully at him. “Sorry, I havta get home. I promised my son we’d go for a drive and talk some things out. He’s been having a shitty time recently too.”

“Oh. Thanks, though.” He looks back down at Awsten, tracing his finger lightly above the darkness encircling his eye. “…he’s gonna be okay, right?”

“He’ll be just fine,” Lucas promises. “You both will. I want you both to come in for a session next week. We needa get to the bottom of this. But for now, keep him calm, give him some extra love, and have your moms call me tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.” Lucas makes his way out the door just as Awsten starts to moan and mumble to himself, blinking rapidly.

“Wha…oh, ow…”

“Hi baby,” Geoff whispers, pressing a kiss to his hair. “How do you feel?”

“Like shit,” Awsten says hoarsely. “My head hurts…”

“I know,” Geoff murmurs. “C’mere.” He shifts to lie against the pillows and pulls Awsten on top of him. Awsten buries his face in his chest and Geoff wraps an arm around his body, using the other one to continue stroking his hair. 

“M’so tired,” Awsten mumbles.

“I know you are,” Geoff replies. “You had a pretty bad panic attack. You needa rest.”

“Love you.” Awsten begins to drift off right there, eyes sliding closed and breathing starting to deepen. Geoff smiles sadly, rubbing his back. He loves him. He loves Awsten so much, more than he can put into words, more than he’s ever loved anything in his entire life. There’s just something so peaceful about the status quo, about having his whole world in his arms, warm breath against his skin, peaceful expression on his wrecked face. There’s something so peaceful about being here, in this moment, being so close to Awsten and knowing that no matter what happens, the love they have for each other is enough to see them through anything.

“I love you too,” Geoff says. “I’m so sorry I keep hurtin’ you.”

…

“Hey, is Awsten okay?”

“He’s fine.” Geoff kisses the top of his head. “Just worn out. Yesterday wasn’t good for him.”

“What happened?” Alex stretches his legs out across the couch, scooting down so his head moves to rest on Jack’s chest. “He looks like hell.”

“He had therapy,” Kellin points out. “That’s explanation enough.”

“True.”

“Fuckin’ hate therapy.”

“Seems like Lucas always knows what I don’t wanna talk about. Exactly how ta get me cryin’.”

“Isn’t it good though? To talk about the uncomfortable things?”

“Nothing about therapy is good.”

“Nothing about you is good.”

“Oh yeah? Well you’re a-”

“Guys.” Jordan steps into the room, Quinn right behind her. Both of their faces are ashen. Quinn’s eyes are red and she’s making a pointed attempt not to look up at them. Jordan’s gripping her hand tightly, white-knuckled and shaky.

“Mama?”

“What’s going on?”

Alex is instantly alert, sliding back up to sit against Jack, reaching back to grab his hand. He brings it to his lips and squeezes tight. He’s not sure what’s going on but if it’s making their moms look like this then it has to be bad.

“So…we just got a call from the guy who coordinates all your guys’ cases,” Jordan says, her voice wavering. “And he said that some of you guys…some of your parents are asking for custody back. Not all of you, and nothing’s set in stone, but…we have to set up court dates and hearings to try and prove that it’s better for your guys’ health and wellbeing to stay here.”

“Who?” Jack’s voice cracks.

“Alex, Kellin, Frank, Awsten, Luke, and Calum.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...thoughts? It's about to get real from here guys, trust me. This is going to change everything. Next chapter is the aftermath and it's...not good, although that's pretty understandable. For those of you looking for more Muke, I promise you won't be disappointed. As I said before, it's already written. The more comments I get the quicker you get the chapter.
> 
> Thanks for reading guys, and I hope all of you American readers have a great Thanksgiving.


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings - anxiety, panic attacks, suicide, self-harm, depression, and mentions of abuse.

“What the _fuck_?”

“Who said it?”

“Since _when_?”

“How…I don’t understand…”

“None of us understands!”

“Quiet!” Jordan yells. She takes a seat on an empty square of couch and Quinn perches on the arm, still looking at the floor. “We don’t know how or why or _anything_. All we know is that we need to find as much proof as physically possible saying your guys’ parents are bad news. Anything helps.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Quinn promises tearfully. “Jor and I are gonna do whatever we have to, to keep you here.”

Jack swallows hard and rests his chin on top of Alex’s head. Alex’s body is turned into his chest, and he can feel his shirt dampening. A glance across the room tells him that everyone else is in a similar state. 

“What…what can we do?” Gerard asks desperately. “How can we help?” Frank has his head down, hand tightly clasped with Gerard’s. Jack can see how badly his hands are shaking. His heart aches. This is devastating for all of them. No matter what happens someone’s gonna get hurt; no one is gonna be left unscathed.

“This is about to become pure hell for them,” Jordan says gravely. “All you can do is keep them afloat.”

“Lucas is coming in tomorrow and staying all day,” Quinn adds. “For anyone who urgently needs ta talk, but mainly for the six of you. Just try to get through tonight, okay?”

“We know you guys switch beds like it’s no one’s business.” Jordan forces a smile. “Brendon’s staying with Ryan, so can we do one couple a room? Give you guys your space to take this all in. Decide who’s room you’re going to and figure something out with your roommate.”

“Try ta get some sleep guys,” Quinn says. “Please. It’s gonna be okay.”

Jack locks eyes with Michael, who motions to Luke and mouths ‘my room, Cal and Ash are taking Alex’s’. He nods, dropping his head back to Alex and coaxing him to lift his head.

“Please Jay,” Alex chokes out. “I can’t breathe.”

“Here’s what we’re gonna do, okay,” Jack says in a rush. “We’re gonna go back to my room and get under the covers and cuddle and maybe cry a little but remember that nothing is taking you away from this house. Away from me. This is your home, Lex. It’ll always be your home.”

“What if they win?” 

“They won’t,” Jack promises firmly, pressing a hard kiss to his forehead. 

He’s not sure he believes it. 

…

“I can’t go back there! I c-can’t!”

Luke buries his face in Michael’s shirt and cries, trying to force his breathing into a steady, normal rhythm. His heart hasn’t stopped racing since Jordan and Quinn broke the news. He’s not sure how much his tear ducts have left, but their supply seems infinite. The tears just keep coming. Pressing his face into Michael’s chest is slightly uncomfortable due to the sticky wetness of his shirt that’s already been soaked by Luke’s tears.

“It’s gonna be okay Lukey,” Michael murmurs. He’s been rubbing his back the entire time and that’s the only thing keeping Luke from completely losing it. Michael’s hands are warm, soft against his body, and the continuous circular motion is nothing short of comforting. 

“You don’t k-know that,” he hiccups, lifting his head. Michael clucks his tongue in sympathy, sighing as he reaches out to wipe tears away.

Luke blinks at him, lip quivering. He doesn’t want to think about it but it’s permanently ingrained into his mind. He can’t focus on anything else. Michael lifts his chin and kisses his cheek softly. “It’s going to be okay, Luke.” He enunciates each word, emphasizing Luke’s full name instead of a pet name. “You’re staying right here. You’re not going anywhere. And I’m gonna be here for all of it, I promise.”

Another sob bubbles up his throat and he falls back into Michael, closing his eyes. 

“You needa get some sleep,” Michael whispers. “Tomorrow’s gonna be hell.”

“I can’t.”

“Try,” Michael insists. “You need it.”

“You’ll stay?” 

“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” Michael repeats. He maneuvers them to lie down on the bed, Luke’s head tucked into his chest and his arms wrapped tight around his torso.

No matter how hard he tries, Luke knows he’s not getting any sleep tonight.

He may never sleep again.

…

“Mom made a Starbucks run.”

Alex rolls his eyes at the multiple coffee cups on the island and doesn’t make a move to take one. As if that’s gonna make anything better. Of course he didn’t sleep last night, he’s sure none of them did. Caffeine isn’t gonna fix it. 

“Drink.” Jack takes a sip from one of the cups and then hands it to him. Alex shakes his head, holding a hand up. He feels sick and he’s not sure whether it’s exhaustion, anxiety, or everything from yesterday combining into one fatal attack. “C’mon Lex, anything for you ta be less of a zombie.”

“Your faces tell us how you slept,” Quinn says. “So I’m not gonna bother asking. Lucas is on his way. We’ve got our lawyer coming in at 3 to talk about where we go from here.”

‘We _will_ fix this, kids,” Jordan promises. “All of you are staying right here and I will stand up in front of any court and say it.”

“I just…” Alex trails off, gaze on the floor. “I don’t understand…my parents were in _jail_ …they said their bail was like, hundreds of thousands of dollars. How’d they get out?”

“People have all kinds of fucked up ways to get around that shit,” Gerard says from the breakfast bar. He takes a long sip of coffee and sighs. “Frank’s a mess too. I don’t even think he tried ta sleep. I couldn’t.”

“I thought I was done with them,” Alex says weakly. “I thought after coming here I’d never havta think about them again. And then I get PTSD and can’t stop having nightmares about them and when _those_ finally stop I think I’m finally okay and then _this_ happens.” He’s on the verge of tears by the end, his voice getting gradually shakier and shakier. “I can’t do this.”

“Hey hey hey.” Jack catches him as he starts to slide to the floor, setting him back on his feet and grabbing both his hands. “Yes you can. And I’ll be here the whole time, remember? You’re not on your own anymore. It’s us. Together. You’ve got me. Forever. Please Lex, try ta breathe. Havin’ a panic attack will only make you feel worse.”

“He’s right.” Awsten’s voice is hoarse and tired. “I feel like shit…”

“That’s what happens when you have two panic attacks in one day and don’t sleep all night,” Geoff continues, following him into the kitchen. “You need coffee and a cold shower.”

“Jesus christ, is he anxious as hell or hungover?”

“I’d take either over this.”

“You really wouldn’t.” Vic slides into the seat next to Gerard’s and pulls one of the many coffees over to him. “Hangovers are the literal worst.”

“You _would_ know.” 

“I’ve had real awful ones,” Vic agrees. “Drugs and booze, everything mixed, it was so bad. I wanted to puke my guts up for three days straight.”

“I’d rather that than this.”

“I think we all would.”

“I don’t want it ta be real.”

“It doesn’t feel like it is.”

“I don’t get how this _happened_ ,” Michael grumbles. “Like, their parents were fine until now, and suddenly they just want custody? The fuck? Don’t they know that their kids are finally happy?”

“Most group homes are temporary things, guys,” Jordan informs them. “For kids to sober up or get clean or learn to cope with their mental illnesses. Once that’s over they get out. This one is different. A lot of people don’t get that.”

“I’m fine here,” Alex mumbles. “Better than I’ve ever been. I finally feel like I belong. Like there’s people who _get_ me and my shit isn’t just in my head. It’s real and other people have it and I’ve never felt that until here. This…you guys are my family and I don’t wanna leave. I _can’t_ leave. I don’t know what I’d do.”

“You’ll never havta find out.” Jack brings him in for a kiss and he relaxes into it, wrapping his arms around Jack’s neck. When they pull apart he rests his forehead against Jack’s, a tear slipping down his cheek, and closes his eyes.

He’s dead if Jack’s wrong.

…

“Alright, so judging by what I’ve read of the case files and the evidence we can use…” The lawyer, Laura, says, flipping a couple pages in her notes. “The easiest to keep here will be Alex, Awsten, and Frank. The abuse they suffered was mostly physical and scars and witness accounts from neighbors and friends can attest to that. It shouldn’t be hard, convincing the court that sending them back to their parents’ would be counterproductive. There’s just one problem…”

Awsten drops his head back down, turning to hide his face in Geoff’s shoulder. He knew there was something else. He was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Every time there’s a victory there’s a setback to accompany it. Things can’t be _just_ good. There always has to be a negative thrown in there for kicks.

“Alex and Awsten…” She turns to them with a sigh. “You two have both relapsed with self-harm in the past month, not to mention Awsten’s eating disorder and the numerous panic attacks. It’s a red flag; they’re going to think you guys aren’t being given the help you need here and that’s causing all these problems. Frank’s suicide attempt is another point of contention. He shouldn’t be trying to kill himself in a home meant to help him recover. That’s what the jury is going to think. We need to explain all of this to the judge, and hope they value rationality over the facts.”

“That’s bullshit,” Jordan mutters. “Don’t they know how mental illness works? We’ve got them in group and individual therapy, on meds…what more do they want from us? It’s not like being taken out of a bad situation makes depression or suicidal thoughts or self-harm go away.”

He stops.

It’s like the whole world stops around him and he feels it, in his chest. The sense of foreboding, like the world is about to end and everything he thought he knew is coming crashing down. 

This is _his_ fault.

If it weren’t for him, weren’t for his _weak, stupid_ head, they wouldn’t be in this situation. They wouldn’t have any issues keeping him where he is. None of this would be a problem. 

_He’s_ the problem.

And now his case, which should’ve been easy, isn’t going to be. 

He’s the problem.

He always has been.

…

“Starin’ at the door isn’t gonna make it open any faster y’know.”

Jack jumps at the voice, wincing. “I know. I just…I wish we could be down there too.”

Vic nods. “I feel that. But this isn’t helpin’. Geoff, Gerard, Mikey, and Ash are in the game room. C’mon.”

“I wanna be there when he’s done.”

“You will be,” Vic mutters. “But staring at the basement door isn’t helping anyone. Come sit with us. We gotta stick together or we won’t survive this.”

Jack agrees, albeit reluctantly, and lets Vic lead him down the hall and into the game room, where in fact Geoff, Gerard, Michael, and Ashton are perched on couches, talking quietly.

“…just not fair. And I dunno how ta help. And it’s makin’ me feel useless and now I know what Aws went through with my nightmares and I don’t _blame_ him for relapsing,” Geoff is saying. “Makes me wanna take a blade ta my wrist too.”

“Luke had nightmares all night,” Michael mutters. “And I felt so shitty tellin’ him it’d be okay because what the hell do I know? I can’t see the future.”

“It’s what helps them,” Gerard says. “It’s better than saying we don’t know and makin’ them panic even more. It’s better to lie than havta deal with the truth.”

“That’s so fucked up,” Jack says, sliding onto the floor next to Ashton.

“It’s true though, isn’t it?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Cal and I didn’t bother sleepin’,” Ashton whispers. “He told me about his parents and why he can’t go back and I just…he _can’t_. He can’t go back there. I dunno why they even _want_ him now, they didn’t before.”

“Exactly,” Geoff agrees. “Awsten’s parents…the reason he’s so fucked up is because they couldn’t deal with the fact that he’s gay. And nothing’s changed. He’s still gay. Why the fuck do they want him now? He’s gay and has a boyfriend and dyes his hair blue and thinks too much and they hated it before but for some reason now they’re like ‘oh yeah not like we haven’t fucked this kid up enough, let’s destroy him even more.”

“It’s so shit.” Vic rubs a hand over his face with a sigh. “I don’t know what ta do. What are we supposed ta do?”

“They gotta relive hell,” Gerard answers. “When they get up in that courtroom they gotta relive the worst times ever. So we’re supposed ta take everything they give us, good, bad, ugly, and give ‘em all the support because they can’t be their own support systems right now.”

“What book did ya pull that line out of?”

Gerard shrugs. “I don’t sleep much. I think a lot. And I know what Frank needs.”

“It’s not enough,” Jack mutters. “Nothing I can do for Lex is enough. He needs to know he’s safe here, that he won’t wake up in the middle of the night and be taken away, and I can’t give him that. So nothing I _can_ do even comes close.”

“Sucks bein’ powerless.”

“Guys?” Quinn peeks into the room with a small smile. “Their session’s just about over. You can go downstairs now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? This is definitely going to be an...interesting twist. It's gonna bring up a lot about pasts that I'm sure none of you were expecting. Next chapter, more aftermath. Frank, Kellin, Calum, and Alex's reactions, and...none of them are handling it well. And Pete, Patrick, and Brendon speak up, being the only ones not affected, directly or indirectly. You know the drill; already written and edited. The more comments I get, the quicker you get the chapter.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning - self-harm, depression, suicide, suicidal thoughts, anxiety, panic attacks, mentions of drug abuse, and abuse.

Gerard isn’t surprised when he finds Frank with a razor pressed to his wrist.

He sighs, drops to his knees in front of him, and holds out a hand, saying nothing. Frank meets his eyes and Gerard sees the watery film of tears covering them. He takes the razor and shoves it into his pocket, and then grabs a tissue from the nightstand and blots at the dots of blood.

“I’m sorry,” Frank whispers, looking down at his lap. “I know what you’re gonna say. I tried so hard and I just…couldn’t. I needed it.”

“Did it make you feel better?”

“It made me feel _something_ ,” Frank mutters. “Something other than scared. I’m sick of bein’ scared. I don’t wanna do it anymore.”

“So don’t be scared,” Gerard replies. “But don’t be _destructive_ either. You heard what the lady said. Alex and Awsten aren’t gonna have an easy time because they keep relapsin’. Don’t put yourself in that place too.”

Luckily, Frank didn’t get far enough to make a cut. There are only a couple dots of blood and when Gerard removes the tissue it’s almost like nothing happened. The redness can be washed away and then his arm’ll look good as new. “I don’t know what else ta do, Gee. This is too much. It hurts too bad. And this is the only thing that helps.”

“You’ve got some real shitty coping mechanisms then,” Gerard says. “What about me? Talk to me. Talk to Lucas. Hell, talk to a fuckin’ wall if that helps but don’t make this harder than it’s already gonna be.”

“It’s not the same,” Frank says quietly. “You know that. You know why I’m doing it.”

“I know that I want you ta stop,” Gerard mutters. “You’re tryna make yourself feel worse and that’s not the answer.”

“There’s nothing ta make me feel _better_ about any of this, is there?” Frank growls in return. “Honestly. If you know a silver lining fuckin’ let me in because I don’t see one.”

…

“C’mon Kells. You gotta say something _sometime_.”

Kellin ignores him, keeping his gaze on the ceiling. He rolls onto his side and continues to stare, bringing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around himself.

“Kells?”

“I can hear you breathing, y’know. I know you’re not asleep.”

“Now you’re just ignoring me.” 

“Jesus christ Kellin, I know this is hard, but shuttin’ me out isn’t gonna help you!”

“Kellin Quinn Bostwick, answer me dammit!”

He rolls his eyes, turning over to fix Vic with a glare. “The fuck do you want?”

Vic’s eyes soften. “I just want you ta talk ta me. You don’t havta do this on your own. Let me help. I’m here for you.”

“I’m fine,” Kellin mutters. “Go away.”

“Not a chance.”

“Vic.”

“Kellin.” Vic matches his glare. “You didn’t leave through all the bullshit with Mike, there’s no way in hell I’m leavin’ after this. I _love_ you. Don’t you get that? Doesn’t it mean something ta you? I love you and I hate seein’ you like this.”

“I’m sorry it’s such a damn _inconvenience_ to you,” Kellin growls. “It kinda sucks for me too.”

“Kells, you know that’s not-”

“What you meant?” Kellin shoots back. “I don’t care what you meant. I just want you ta leave me alone. Can you just fuckin’ do that?”

“I, um, okay,” Vic says. “Sorry.”

He turns and practically runs out of the room and Kellin sighs, burying his face in the pillow and squeezing his eyes shut.

_You cannot relapse._

_You cannot fucking relapse._

_It’s been almost three years_.

All he wants is a pill.

…

“C’mon Cal, you gotta eat something…”

“Not hungry.” Calum pulls the covers over his head and turns to let a tear drip onto the pillow. It’s damp, uncomfortably so, but he’d rather be here than face everyone out there.

“I know,” Ashton sighs. His hand snakes under the covers and he begins to stroke Calum’s cheek. Calum sighs, scooting away from the touch and trying to stop crying. “Baby, I know. I know it sucks and I know you’re in pain and I hate it. But I’m here, okay? I love you and I’m here and I promise you’re gonna be okay.”

“I don’t want it ta be real,” Calum chokes out, finally lifting the covers and sitting up. He meets Ashton’s eyes and then he’s crying, tears streaming down his cheeks as the lump in his throat throbs. “I don’t want any of this ta be real.”

Ashton sighs, holding his arms open. Calum leans forward, sliding onto his knees, and buries his face in Ashton’s chest. The fact that he has any tears left is surprising. It feels like he’s cried himself dry. His head aches and his chest is tight.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Ashton murmurs, rubbing his back. “You’re gonna be okay, I promise. I love you. And nothing they say or do will change that.”

“They hate me,” Calum whispers. “And now they want me again? And they think we can go back to normal? They _kicked me out_ , Ash…”

“I know.” Ashton kisses his head. “They put you through hell and they don’t deserve anything from you. So that’s exactly what we’ll say. We’ll tell the judge how they made you feel like shit and didn’t get you help and forced you to do things that made everything so much worse. And they’ll understand and you’ll finally be free and none of this will ever matter again.”

“Please don’t leave,” Calum cries. “I can’t do this without you.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Ashton promises firmly. “I’ll be there for everything no matter what anyone says. And it’s all gonna work out, okay? Mikey even said he’d testify. It’s all gonna be fine. You’re gonna be fine.”

He keeps saying it and Calum’s really not sure he believes it but it’s nice to hear. It’s nice to have that steady flow of constant praise and reassurance. It’s soft and warm and comforting and _constant_. Ashton is the one constant, the one uncomplicated thing he has in his life, and in a time like this, it’s everything.

He breathes out, closes his eyes, and tries to calm down, tries to focus on the warmth of Ashton’s hold and the steadiness of his voice and the fact that everything might be turning to shit but he’ll always have this to fall back on.

It has to be enough.

…

“Where is he?”

“Rian wait, I really think you should-”

“Don’t,” Rian growls. “Where the fuck is Alex?”

“Listen to me!” Jack’s hands are on his shoulders and he forces him to meet his eyes. “He looks like shit. He hasn’t been sleeping. He keeps having nightmares. And he’s always lost in his head so whatever you do, _don’t_ sneak up on him.”

“Don’t tell me how ta handle Alex,” Rian snaps. “Don’t mock me. I’ve been taking care of him longer than you’ve known he exists.”

“He’s my boyfriend,” Jack replies. “And I’ve lived this the past week. I’m not stupid, Rian. I know what you guys have is special. But I’ve been around him since it happened and you haven’t so you needa listen to me.”

“I don’t _need_ to do anything except find Alex,” Rian mutters. He pushes past Jack and thunders up the stairs. Pushing open the door to Alex’s room, he finds himself staring at Ashton, who motions to a sleeping Calum and mouths ‘Jack’s room’. He responds with a silent apology and a nod, closing the door and opening the one right next to it. 

And there he is, sprawled out on Jack’s bed, face buried in the pillow. The trashcan next to the bed is full of tissues and Rian can hear soft sobs.

“Oh Lex…” He sighs. Alex doesn’t move, giving no indication he’s heard. He knows Jack said no surprises, but this is something Alex needs. Carefully, he tiptoes over to the side of the bed Alex isn’t facing and slides on, pulling Alex backward and into his chest.

“What the…Ri…” Alex catches on quickly, rolling over onto his other side. 

And that’s when Rian sees exactly what Jack was trying to warn him about.

Alex’s hair is greasy and there are dark bags under his red, bloodshot eyes. He’s pale, complexion a pasty white as opposed to his usual bordering on tan pallor. His cheeks are tearstained and his lip is quivering dangerously. 

“C’mere.” He pulls Alex in, close enough that he can bury his face in his chest. Alex’s sobs are heartbreaking. Loud, full of anguish and misery…it hurts so bad to hear.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he murmurs. “I’m not gonna let them take you outta here, I promise.”

“I can’t go back there Ri,” Alex chokes out. “I _can’t_.”

“I know,” Rian says. “You won’t.”

“My back,” Alex whispers. “It hurts.”

Rian sighs. In the recent years he’s been feeling the phantom pain, the throbbing in the completely healed scar that’s completely psychological but nonetheless worrying. He wraps his arms around Alex’s torso and lifts them both up into sitting positions. Alex bites his lip as Rian lifts his shirt once more, hooking it on Alex’s shoulders, and turns around so he can see.

The scar is healed, like it’s always been, but when Rian brushes a finger across it, Alex jumps and winces. “Have you…have you told Jack about this, Al?”

Alex shakes his head as Rian lets his shirt back down. “I…I can’t…”

“He can help you,” Rian says. “He wants to. You just gotta let him.”

“Can’t tell the story again.”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Rian agrees. “But tell him soon, at least. He’s goin’ crazy worryin’.”

“Will you testify?”

The question is phrased so innocently, like he expects him to have to think about it. Rian nods firmly. “You bet your ass I will. Anything to keep you here.”

“Will you stay?”

“You bet your ass I will,” Rian repeats, pressing a hard kiss to his forehead. “M’not goin’ anywhere, promise.”

…

“It just sucks, y’know? They’re in hell and we’re just sittin’ here watching. Feels like we should be _doing_ something.”

“The fuck can we do?” Brendon mutters, reaching for a chip. “S’not like we can make their parents let this go.”

The bowl of chips was strategically placed in front of all of them, in hope that everyone else eating would nudge Brendon to try some as well. He hasn’t been reaching for it the way the rest of them have, but at least he’s eating. 

Pete shrugs. “It just…it’s not fair. Why now? We’re fine where we are.”

“M’just glad my parents don’t give a shit,” Patrick says, taking a sip from his can of coke. “They kicked me out and it’s their fuckin’ loss. They don’t want me and I don’t want them either.”

“Cal’s parents kicked him out and they want him back,” Brendon points out. “Maybe they wised up and realized what dicks they’re being.”

“Or maybe they hope he got rid of whatever part of him they didn’t like,” Pete mutters. “They expect us ta change, them changin’ is fuckin’ out of the question.”

“Because we’re wrong, right?” Patrick rolls his eyes. “It’s bullshit. Cal’s amazing. They don’t deserve him.”

“And Ash finally has somebody.” Brendon doesn’t meet their eyes. “It sucks when you have no one.”

“Bren…”

“I’m fine.”

“Sure you are. And I’m not thinkin’ of purging right now.”

“’Trick…” Pete looks over at Patrick, his heart immediately starting to speed up. He scoots closer, putting a tentative hand on Patrick’s back and leaning in to whisper in his ear, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” Patrick replies. “It’s instinct. Unlearning it takes time.”

“Fuckin’- how long does physical therapy _take_?” Brendon says irritably, pressing the home button on his phone. “Ry _still_ hasn’t texted.”

“He’s probably tired. That shit takes a lot outta you.”

“I know that.” Brendon sounds defensive. It seems like every little thing is setting him off lately. He’s lost the ability to take jokes. It’s like he thinks everyone’s out to get him in some way or another. “I’m goin’ over when he’s done and we’re gonna cuddle and stuff. I’ll probably stay there tonight.”

“Like you do every night?”

“Y’know what? Fuck you.” Brendon scrambles to his feet and shoots Patrick a glare. “I don’t need this.”

He stalks over to the stairs and makes a big show of stomping up them, leaving Patrick to turn to Pete with his hands up in surrender. “It was just a joke…”

“I know,” Pete sighs, kissing the side of his head. “He’s bein’ an ass and I don’t know why.”

“I’m sick of it.”

“Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? It's, um...it's gonna get worse before it gets better. That's all I have to say. Next chapter, therapy session with Alex, Awsten, Kellin, Frank, Luke, and Calum, followed by one of them hitting a breaking point, Jordan and Quinn telling the boys the reality of the situation, and Jack visits Zack for some advice. The more comments I get, the quicker you get the chapter. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couple things. First off, this chapter...it's one of the most triggering of the entire story, for eating disorders, specifically bulimia. The scene starts with "He twists the lock on the door", if you want to skip it. For those of you that don't...there's a song I listened to on repeat while writing that scene, and I sincerely urge you to pull it up and do the same, because it makes that scene so much more impactful. The song is 'Skin and Bones' by Marianas Trench, and once you listen to it, you'll understand why.
> 
> Trigger warnings - depression, anxiety, panic attacks, suicidal thoughts, and eating disorders.

“I don’t see the point of this.”

“Me neither.”

“I just wanna go back to bed…”

“Second that.”

“Guys,” Lucas sighs. “You needa talk about this. There’s no holing yourselves up in your rooms and spending your days crying and relapsing. It’s not gonna help.”

“Helps me feel better,” Frank mutters under his breath. This whole ‘let’s talk everything out in group therapy’ thing is really getting annoying. He knows what Jordan and Quinn are trying to do, but all any of them want to do is curl up in bed and never come out and this is really inconveniencing that.

“I’m not gonna make you talk about anything you don’t wanna talk about,” Lucas says. “But I _am_ gonna make you talk. The lawyer is setting court dates and putting together evidence for each of you, meaning all of you are going to have to be called to the stand. This sucks now but it’ll suck even more when you’re up there having a panic attack talking about shit you haven’t even _thought_ about in years.”

“Wait, _what_?” Alex’s voice breaks. “I thought it was just moms…we have to go up there too?”

“Of course we do, dumbass,” Kellin grumbles. “How the fuck else are they gonna see why we should stay? Moms could be makin’ everything up for all they know.”

“They’d be under oath, aren’t you not allowed to lie under oath?”

“People still do it.”

“But, um-”

“Jesus christ,” Kellin growls. “You gotta get up there and tell them why you wanna stay. If you can’t even do that why do you even deserve to _be here_?”

Alex’s response is a choked whimper, and Frank winces. While he agrees with Kellin, there was no need to put it so harshly.

“Kellin, stop,” Lucas says. “That was uncalled for. He’s scared. Anxiety doesn’t help.”

“I have it too, you don’t see me freakin’ out.”

“Were you abused by your parents?” Alex’s voice is full of tears but that rasp adds to its power. “Did they beat you every fuckin’ day and tell you how much they wish they’d aborted you? No? Didn’t think so. They’re the _reason_ I’m so fucked up so excuse me for bein’ scared ta face them.”

“I’m scared too,” Awsten confesses. “I…I can’t. Not even with a triple dose of Xanax. I can’t see them again I fucking can’t.”

Alex puts a hand on his shoulder and leans over to whisper something in his ear. Awsten nods. Frank can see his hands shaking. It especially sucks how Lucas made Jack, Geoff, Gerard, Michael, Ashton, and Vic stay upstairs. Awsten in particular could use some comfort right about now.

“They kicked me out,” Calum starts. “My parents. They tossed me out like garbage because they didn’t like that I was gay and now they want me back? I don’t get it. I don’t know what they expect. Like, do they think I’m not gay anymore or something? They’re not the type of people to become open-minded about _anything_.”

“My parents were horrible,” Luke whispers. “I guess they just…didn’t want me or something because they loved my brothers but they hated me. And then Ben joined the army and Jack moved in with his girlfriend and they just…forgot they had a third kid, I guess. I didn’t want them to give me up so I left and it’s been almost four years and I haven’t spoken to them since and I can’t see them again I can’t.”

He’s wheezing by the end of it, tears in his eyes. “C-Can…I need Mikey, please, let me go…”

“If he gets to go I’m going too,” Awsten speaks up. His voice is wavering dangerously. 

“Me three,” Alex says tearfully.

“C’mon this…this isn’t good,” Frank mutters. “None of them are up for it and this is the last place I wanna be too. Can’t we do it some other time?”

Lucas pulls out his phone and types a quick text. “I just asked your moms to let them down here. We’ll stop for today, but tomorrow we’re gonna go through the whole time, okay? We needa get you guys ready for the court dates. Going in with no prep is recipe for a panic attack.”

Feet thunder down the stairs. The next moments are a blur of flurry activity and Frank finds himself pulled into a long embrace. He stands on tiptoe to rest his chin in the crook of Gerard’s neck. “Jump,” Gerard murmurs, breath warm against his ear. Frank grins and does just that. 

It gives him visibility of everything else going on, and he watches as Alex navigates through his mess of tears into Jack’s arms and presses his face into his chest and Awsten practically falls into Geoff’s arms with a sob that sounds gut-wrenching and Luke presses himself into Michael’s side and turns his head into his shoulder and Calum lets Ashton wrap him into a tight hug that looks unbelievably warm.

There’s just one problem.

Vic’s standing awkwardly off to the side, hands shoved in his pockets. Kellin is nowhere to be seen. Vic’s hair is messy and his eyes are tired and that’s more than enough to tell him something is very wrong.

Fuck.

Just what they need.

…

He twists the lock on the door and stands with his back against it, letting his head hit the wood and closing his eyes. He rests a hand on his stomach and pushes against it, squeezing his eyes shut tighter and biting down on his lip. He’s tasting copper and swallowing as it presses painfully against the lump in his throat. 

He pushes off the door and keeps an arm around his stomach, staggering over to the sink. He twists the faucet and it makes a creaking noise before the water starts gushing out. He turns the knob as far as it’ll go. The power of the stream grows stronger and stronger until he’s looking at a mini-waterfall that blurs and distorts through the lenses of salty water.

He lifts his head to look at his reflection in the mirror and chomps down harder on his lip. The person that stares back at him is red eyes and pale skin and flushed cheeks, sweaty blue strands of hair in his eyes, dye mixing with tears. It stings. He swallows again and it produces more moisture from his eyes, rolling down his face and clinging to his neck.

“You’re a fucking monster,” he growls at his reflection. A sob punctuates the words and then he’s really crying, sinking to the floor with his knees pulled up to his chest and his face buried in his hands. His hands start to slip, saturated with liquid, and he pulls them away and rests his forehead on his knees. The water drips into his jeans and dampens spots uncomfortably. 

He feels the pressure, the sharp jab of the button on his jeans digging into the alabaster skin of his stomach. He grits his teeth and clenches his fists.

He wants it gone.

He wants all of it taken away, every last bit of disgusting fat that clings to his gut and adds to his thighs and fills out his cheeks. 

It’s disgusting.

He’s disgusting.

Geoff’s crazy.

How does he love him?

How could anyone love him he doesn’t deserve love he doesn’t deserve anything he’s toofattoofattoofuckingfathedeservestodieheneedstodiediediedie.

He shifts onto his knees and crawls over to the toilet, lifting the lid and staring bleary-eyed into the glistening water below. A tear splashes into the bowl. He swipes angrily at his eyes but his hand slides right off his wet cheek.

Shakily, he inserts two fingers into his mouth and strokes the back of his throat. 

It doesn’t take long.

He barely touches it a second time before he’s gagging, eyes closed, stomach surging up his esophagus and splashing into the water with a wet, messy-sounding plop. He looks down at the chunks of food angrily. There are too many it’s too much he ate too much it’s too muchtoomuchtoomuchtoofuckingmuch.

He goes again, throat burning as acid travels up his throat, and again, and the fourth time sends knives into his stomach. He gasps at the pain, closing his eyes and bringing one hand to his left side. When he looks back at the water he sees a bright red stream amongst the mostly clear vomit. 

He sits back on his knees and reaches for some toilet paper to wipe his mouth.

It’s not self-harm.

It’s not going to jeopardize the trial.

It’s fine.

He’s fine.

Everything’s fine.

…

“Luke, Calum, Kellin…we’re gonna need a lot of witnesses for you guys. There’s no record of physical abuse like we have with Alex, Awsten, and Frank, so we’re gonna have a lot harder of a time proving to a judge that your parents are unfit.”

“They kicked me out,” Calum says. “Shouldn’t that count for something? They packed my bags and threw me onto the fuckin’ street and didn’t give a shit what happened after.”

“We know,” Jordan replies. “And we’re gonna tell them that. But the lawyer said it could very well become a case of your word against theirs. Which brings us to Luke…you ran away, kiddo. You ran away and that’s gonna be even harder to fight because there’s virtually no proof of your parents’ incompetence.” 

“And Kellin-”

“Don’t,” Kellin mutters. “I already know. It’s gonna be hell for me too. We may as well say our goodbyes. This is it.”

“Hey.” He gets up to leave but Quinn catches him, a tight grip on his wrist. “No one is leaving this house, okay? No one is going. We’re gonna fight for you and you needa trust that we’ll win.”

“You said it yourself,” Kellin says flatly. “The odds are against us. Why bother gettin’ my hopes up if m’just gonna be disappointed?”

“That’s no way ta think, kiddo,” Jordan sighs. “Have a little faith in us.”

“What’s faith ever got me?” Kellin shoots back. “’Think positive’, ‘have faith’, ‘believe in us’. It’s such fucking bullshit. You don’t have any control. It’s all up to the judge and whether or not his coffee was cold or he fell on his ass getting out of bed that morning! We could be as prepared as possible and still get screwed over, don’t you get it? They’re fucking with us! The sooner you realize that the less time you’ll waste gettin’ your stupid fuckin _hopes_ up!”

…

“So where is Alex right now?”

“Back at the house, talkin’ to Rian,” Jack sighs, collapsing onto the couch. He maneuvers his body so he can rest his head on Zack’s lap, closing his eyes. “Needed ta get outta there. I love him, but it’s just a lot…”

“No, you did the right thing,” Zack replies. He reaches for the remote and turns off the TV. “This affects you too.”

“It just…it _sucks_ , Zack,” Jack mutters. “He’s hurtin’ so much and I don’t know what to do. Telling him I love him and it’ll be okay is nothin’ if I’m lying to him.”

“You’re not lying, though.”

“I may as well be.” The fingers in his hair feel really nice. Zack grazes his hand through absentmindedly and Jack leans up into the touch. “How can I say it’s okay when I don’t know if will be? The judge might…the judge might take him away from me. From us. How am I supposed to smile and say it’ll be fine when everythin’ he’s scared of is completely true?”

“You lie,” Zack says in resignation. “And lie _well_. You needa be sure because he can’t be. You needa be strong because he won’t be. And you needa be believable otherwise it’s all gonna come crashing down.”

“How do you know it’ll work?”

“Worked with you.”

Jack opens his eyes and stares up at Zack, who exhales deeply before continuing, “I had to become the best damn liar ever when you were in and out of foster homes. Had ta promise you’d be okay, tell you you’d go back to Jordan and Quinn…I didn’t know that. I barely believed it. I-”

“You lied to me?” Jack asks wondrously. “All that…all those times were _lies_ …? None of it was real…I-”

“But you believed me, didn’t you?” Zack presses a hand to his chest as if he’s anticipated him making an escape. “You believed me and it helped and you got through. Sometimes you don’t know all the answers, Jacky. You gotta make do with what you have and sometimes even that’s shit. So you make up bullshit and hope for the best because that’s all you _can_ do.”

“I’m not gonna run,” Jack says quietly. “It’s okay. I know why you did it. I’m glad you did.”

“All you need is someone who has the answers,” Zack repeats. “And even though you don’t, you gotta be that person for him. It’s comforting, knowing someone knows what’s up when you don’t. He’s relying on that. On _you_.”

“That’s not pressure,” Jack mutters dryly. It’s stressful. He’s not used to having all the answers. He’s used to being a source of comfort for everyone else at the group home but no one expects him to know _everything_. “What if…what if he has to leave? What am I supposed ta do?”

“You’ll figure it out,” Zack promises. “People can be in relationships without living together, y’know. Ri and I do it.”

“Speaking of, how _is_ Rian?” Jack smirks. “Is he good in bed?”

“I am not talking about this with you.”

“Not like you got anyone else ta talk about it with.”

Zack glares at him. “Remind me why I keep you around?”

“Aw come on Zacky,” Jack sings. “You looooove me!”

“Debatable.”

“Say it.”

“Why?”

“The world deserves to know.”

“What, that you’re an ass? It definitely does.”

“Your life would be so fuckin’ boring without me.”

“It’s so fuckin’ _annoying_ with you.”

“Aw Zacky, I love you too,” Jack says dramatically. “But really, thanks. You’re savin’ my ass.”

Zack rolls his eyes. “Like I have been for all the years you’ve known me? Forget me needin’ you, you need _me_.”

“Yeah sure, whatever.”

“You’d be dead without me.”

“Can you gloat a little less?”

Zack just smiles at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? I've gotten a couple comments saying that this, one of almost each couple's parents wanting custody back, isn't realistic. And guys, I'm surprised you're underestimating me like this. I've written this whole story on the grounds of realism and that isn't changing now. The next chapter offers an explanation. It wasn't a coincidence and it definitely wasn't out of the blue to make the story longer. I've been planning it since the beginning. So please, stick with me. I know what I'm doing.
> 
> Next chapter also deals with how Alex and Frank are handling this, and it's really not good. If Awsten's scene this chapter told you anything...next chapter is a lot worse.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavy trigger warnings for self-harm in the first scene, suicidal thoughts/depression in the second one, and anxiety, panic attacks, and mentions of eating disorders. 
> 
> This one's kinda a lot. Enjoy.

Pain is like alcohol.

Stings at first, but once the full effect hits you start to feel good. Like the world isn’t so big, so bad, so overwhelming. It’s small and compact and everything in this moment is okay. That minute of solace, that single reprieve, is the only way to recharge the batteries until next time, until that next drink, or, in his case, the next time silver turns red.

He twists the doorknob to make sure it’s locked and slides down on the bathroom floor, letting his head hit the wall and closing his eyes. 

They’re everywhere. It’s like they’re hanging around every corner, waiting for the right second to catch him off-guard with a fist to his face. He’s come home to that before. Barely unlocked the door before his father’s grabbing him by his hair and pining him against a wall so he can’t escape.

He swallows and blinks. The tears burn at the corners of his eyes. He swipes at them angrily, biting his lip and staring straight ahead.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a piece of metal. It feels cool against his palm. He closes his fingers around it and the sensation starts to die down as it adjusts to his body heat and warms. He turns the blade over with his fingers, rubbing his skin against the smooth surface. 

He rolls his sleeve up and keeps his hand closed around the piece of metal, using his knuckle to trace over the scarred, bumpy skin of his forearm. The cuts started off as a neat line but soon turned jagged, messy slashes etched in his skin because he couldn’t stop panicking long enough to be methodical about the whole thing. There is a way to be smart about it. You’re cutting your flesh but there’s a right way and a wrong way. Small, neat lines don’t bleed that much. They don’t hurt that bad either. Jagged, messy slash marks hurt going in and throb even worse after.

When he’s mid-panic attack, crying, unable to breathe properly, he can’t think clear enough to make neat little lines. The messy scars hurt more but work quicker. The pain is like a reality check, bringing him back down to Earth. It takes the panic away. He prefers it. Being neat and methodical was reserved for when he needed to do it every day, needed a daily session to be able to function. There was no reason for panic then.

The most recent cut is barely a day old. It’s still red. It stings when he brushes a finger over it. 

He swallows again and presses the blade down at the edge, and then pulls straight across.

He tastes copper in his mouth from how hard he’s biting on his lip. New tears spring to his eyes. The pain is white-hot. It feels like every nerve ending in his arm is on fire. A mix between a whimper and a sob escapes as he looks dizzily at the ruby red liquid dripping down his arm. It’s forming a pool on the tile floor, sticky and wet.

All he can do is stare, blinking back the tears in his eyes.

Jack would be so disappointed. 

…

He would rather _die_. 

He would rather die than go back to live with _them_.

He’d rather put a bullet in his brain or slice his wrist with a steak knife or swallow an entire bottle of sleeping pills or tie a rope around his neck and hang from the ceiling, than go back to the house he thought he’d never make it out of, the house that holds the two people in this world whose _presence_ is enough to have him scratching, clawing, _ripping_ at his flesh, wishing he could tear it off.

Everything that’s wrong with him…every messed up thought and fucked up tendency…all of it can be attributed to them. Their neverending rules, the sick _obsession_ they had with perfection, their utter _determination_ to make sure he was _flawless_.

No flaws.

No imperfections.

The goal was perfect and anything below was worthless.

He still remembers his mother pinching his waist and saying in that fake, sickly sweet voice _Frank, honey, it’s not about what you_ want _to eat, it’s about how it makes you look._

 _You don’t want to be_ fat, _do you?_

_You’re shaming the family, Frank._

_Our pure bloodline is going to die with you, how does that make you feel?_

_You ruined it._

_It’s your fault._

_Youdestroyedityouruineditit’sallyourfaultyourfaultyourfaultallyourfuckingfault_.

He never did learn how to eat right after that. He grew up with unbelievable portion control and calorie limitation and going hungry some nights because he’d already had his daily calories and measuring tape around his waist and daily weigh-ins and constant reminders that he was toofattoofattoofuckingfat.

If you weren’t perfect you were worthless that was it there was nothing you could do there was no coming back from it you were done you were worthless that’s all you’d ever be that’s all that’s fucking all.

He still remembers the look of utter despair on his mother’s face when he was two pounds over the weight limit she’d set and her cries to his father about how horrible their son was because of his abundant lack of self-control and his determination to screw up their lives.

That’s when he decided he would never stoop to that level, never be _imperfect_ , again.

And being in the group home, being in therapy and on medication, having the voice in his head go quiet for a while…everything changed. He didn’t have to be perfect. Gerard liked him the way he was and he learned to be _okay_ with that person. 

He could live without being perfect.

He _can_ live without being perfect.

Unless he has to go back to that house.

…

“I still don’t get it.”

“Get what?”

“How this happened all at once,” Ashton replies. “Like, all six of your guys’ parents suddenly up and decided they want custody back? It doesn’t seem realistic…”

“He’s gotta point,” Jack agrees. “I thought it was weird…”

“Yeah,” Geoff says. He turns his gaze to Jordan and Quinn, both of whom are avoiding their gazes. The looks on their faces, what he can see of them, are panicked. 

Something’s up.

“Moms?” Michael speaks up. “What’s _really_ goin’ on here? This isn’t some fuckin’ coincidence.”

“That’s not impor-” Jordan starts to say, but Quinn places a hand on her arm and whispers something in her ear. 

“They deserve to know the truth,” Quinn mutters. “It’s not fair to keep this from them any longer.”

“Keep _what_?”

“What aren’t you telling us?”

“You’re right, this isn’t a coincidence,” Quinn continues. “And it’s not new. Luke’s parents were the first to come forward, just trying to find him. They called around, and eventually his case worker put them in contact with us. And, well…it got ugly. We told them that Luke’s anxiety is bad and his file says that he ran away because he couldn’t stand to live in their home any longer, and that he’s safe here with us, but…they didn’t take too kindly to it. They…they accused us of kidnapping…” Her voice breaks and she turns her face into Jordan’s shoulder.

“So they managed to get ahold of all your guys’ parents, to try and get them on board, and Alex’s, Awsten’s, Calum’s, Frank’s, and Kellin’s agreed. Mainly…” Jordan pauses, turning her gaze to the floor. “Mainly because they’re not happy about two lesbians raising their children. They’re trying to outnumber us and build six strong cases; they have been since a couple weeks after Alex got here. We’ve been fighting it for months now, but we didn’t wanna say anything until we knew it was going to court,” Jordan says.

“We didn’t wanna give you guys more to stress about,” Quinn chokes out. “We thought we could take care of it in private.”

“You…you lied to us?”

“They’ve been lyin’ for _months_ , Awsten.”

“I don’t…I don’t understand…” 

“You told us you didn’t know anything…”

“That was a lie too. Everything’s a lie. They’ve been playin’ us this whole time.”

Quinn chokes out a sob and Jordan lifts her head to glare at them. “Hey,” she snaps. “You guys have no _idea_ the hell it’s been to handle all this. We’ve been doing everything we possibly can to try and keep you all here. The system is so fucked up and there’s so many hoops to jump through and we’ve been running ourselves ragged tryna do it all. We’ve been fighting this for _months_ , not only all the legal shit but being told we’re horrible mothers, we don’t deserve kids, our relationship is wrong, _we’re_ wrong… It hasn’t been easy. And it wasn’t…” She trails off with a sigh. “We didn’t wanna keep it from you this long. Believe me, we’ve hated ourselves for it. But with Ryan’s coma and Gerard and Vic tryna find their brothers and all of your mental illnesses just overall getting _worse_ …it wasn’t going to help you. Especially judging by how you’ve reacted so far. It would’ve destroyed things.”

“So why tell us now?” Gerard asks. “Why bother? If you were so busy _handling_ it, if you didn’t wanna burden us, why tell us at all?”

“Because it’s not something we can take care of out of court anymore,” Jordan replies. “Something you guys may not realize…we have _temporary_ custody. We’re your legal guardians, _temporarily_. Nothing about this is permanent. And fighting the system is hell, Jack can tell you that. Your parents are trying to not only get full custody back, but prove that this group home isn’t effective and we aren’t doing our jobs.”

“What does that mean?”

“They’re tryna shut us down,” Jordan says gravely. “Forever.”

…

“Jacko?”

Jack doesn’t look up. “What do you want?”

“Hey.” Quinn’s voice is wavery. “You don’t get to do that. I’m still your mother.”

“Are you?” Jack shoots back. “Or are you just a lyin’ bitch?”

Alex is asleep against him, hair practically in his mouth, and he keeps his gaze on that as he talks. He can’t look up. He can’t see tears in her eyes and the heartbroken expression on her face.

“I’m sorry,” Quinn whispers. “Jack, you havta understand how hard we’ve been tryna keep you guys here. It’s never been easy. But you guys haven’t had it easy either and you didn’t need more ta worry about. You know how bad this is, it would’ve been front and center and you all had other shit to worry about.”

“You still.” His voice breaks. “You still should’ve told me.”

“Can you please look at me baby?” When he lifts his head, Quinn gives him a watery smile and reaches for one of his hands, bringing it up to her lips. “I’m so sorry, my love. We should’ve told you guys. _I_ should’ve told _you_. Of all the kids here…you’re special, Jacko. You’re my baby. I’ve watched you grow up for the past sixteen years and I have been so proud of you. You’ve been through hell and still come out on top. And now you have Alex and I’ve never seen you so happy.” She chokes out a sob. “When I first saw you, that screaming infant on our doorstep, when we brought you inside…I vowed to protect you. I wasn’t your biological mother but I was your mother in every other aspect and I promised myself I would protect you from the darkness of the world because as your mother it was my job.”

She reaches up to cup his cheek. “I’ve failed at my job so many times. I’ve watched you be broken time after time and work so hard to build yourself back up and it _kills_ me. I couldn’t protect you from the state, I couldn’t protect you from shitty foster parents, I couldn’t protect you from the circumstances of your birth, I couldn’t protect you from the goddamn eating disorder that’s just about ruined everything…but I thought I could protect you from this. You were so happy. I just…I haven’t seen you this consistently happy in so long, since you were five years old begging me to take you to see Santa, and I guess I just wanted to preserve it for as long as I could.” She sighs raggedly. “Maybe that was wrong of me. Maybe I shouldn’t have kept it from you. I don’t know. But I do know that having you hate me is harder than anything that’s happened the past few months combined. I love you, sweetheart. You are my world. I’m so, _so_ sorry I’ve done something that hurt you enough to change that.”

Jack chokes out a sob and rests Alex on the pillows next to him. He shoots forward, into Quinn’s open arms, and buries his face in her shoulder. “You haven’t, mama. You haven’t. I love you. I love you so much I’m so sorry you’re my mama you’ve been the best mama in the world. I love you.”

“I love you too, baby,” Quinn says tearfully. “More than anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? So...are we good now? I hope you guys are okay with that explanation. It is gonna be brought up a few times in coming chapters, but that's basically the entire thing. Next chapter, Pete and Patrick have a joint session with Lucas, Brendon finds himself at Ryan's house for the millionth time (they talk about some not so good things but it's cute), and Kellin...makes a bad decision that just might cost him everything. The more comments I get, the quicker you get the chapter.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	46. Chapter 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings - anxiety, panic attacks, abuse, rape, depression, self-harm, drug abuse.

“I guess I’m…everyone talks about how bipolar disorder is scary because it’s so unpredictable, that’s what I hear a lot. And I thought it was okay because he was on meds. But then I saw he wasn’t taking them and that really freaked me out and now I just can’t get it outta my head…I don’t know what to do but I miss him and I want things to go back to the way they were but I don’t know how to stop thinkin’ about it…”

Pete winces. Patrick’s talking about him like he’s not sitting ten feet away. Lucas called them both in for a joint session to get to the bottom of their problems so they can rebuild. He’s not sure how it’s going to go, but judging by what he’s hearing…this could take a while.

“Well, first off,” Lucas says. “Bipolar disorder is the one people spread the most misconceptions about. That and schizophrenia. It’s not what people make it out to be. But you are right, if Pete doesn’t take his meds there is a chance of the same thing happening again.”

“And I know that,” Pete speaks up. “And I’m back on ‘em and I’m not gonna stop again. I’m so sorry I scared you, ‘trick. I didn’t mean to. I just…this whole thing kinda really sucks for me. I hate it. Takin’ meds makes me feel crazy and I hate feeling like that.”

“I don’t want you ta do it for me!” Patrick replies. “I don’t wanna be your only reason! I want you ta get better for _you_ , because _you_ want to.”

“I don’t want to!”

He stops.

It feels like everything is frozen. Time, space…even the expressions on Lucas and Patrick’s faces look like they’ve solidified. The silence is uncomfortable, dripping with tension, and he hates it. “I, um…I didn’t mean that.”

“What _did_ you mean?” Lucas finds his voice first.

“I just…I don’t…this is _part_ of me,” Pete chokes out. He’s stumbling for the words, stuttering like an idiot, and it’s not helping his case at all. “I’ve had it my whole life. It feels like another part of me and I don’t want it to go away.”

Lucas nods thoughtfully. “That makes sense. I’ve personally never felt that way, but I can see where it’s coming from. But Pete, you need to realize that your disorder _isn’t_ you. It doesn’t define you. I don’t think you wanna referred to as: Pete Wentz, bipolar disorder, do you? You have so many other defining characteristics. This is a part of you, and it’ll always be a part of you, but it shouldn’t define who you are.”

“No, I know…I just meant…I don’t know how ta function without it. It’s like…the meds take everything away. And I don’t like how I feel on them. It’s not me. They make me feel all fuzzy and sick and I hate them.”

“So it’s the meds,” Lucas deduces. “It’s not that you don’t wanna get better, it’s that you don’t wanna keep taking meds because they make you feel like shit and you think you’d be better unmedicated because you didn’t feel as bad.”

“Exactly.”

“We can fix that,” Lucas says gently. “I can change your prescription, kiddo. You don’t havta stay locked into something that makes you feel like shit. You could’ve said something…we can fix this.” He pulls out his prescription pad and begins scribbling. “I’ve actually thought about putting you on lithium for a while now. It’s the best way to treat mania without making you feel like a zombie.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Patrick’s voice is a whisper. He slides out of his seat and joins Pete on the couch, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “I could’ve helped you…why didn’t you say something?”

“I thought you had enough to deal with,” Pete mumbles. “And you’ve been doin’ so good lately. I didn’t wanna put stress on you and make you relapse.”

Patrick sighs. “I’m not fragile, Pete. I haven’t purged in _months_. I feel _good_. You don’t havta bubblewrap me. I’m your boyfriend, I wanna help you. But I can’t do that if you don’t talk to me.”

“You guys _need_ to communicate,” Lucas tells them. “I can’t stress that enough. Communication is the most important part of any relationship. Without that you’ve got nothing.”

“I just…” Pete shakes his head. “I don’t want him ta be scared of me. I don’t want him ta be uncomfortable. I…I keep thinkin’ about that night and I know he was terrified but…I was scared too. Of what I was capable of. I didn’t know I could get that far.”

“Mania does that,” Lucas replies. “Unfortunately. It turns you into a completely different person. But now that you know, you can see the signs before it happens. And you, Patrick, can see them too. The meds should help but if on the off chance you forget a dose, you’ll know what to look for.”

Pete smiles gratefully, murmuring a soft thank you. Patrick kisses the side of his head and squeezes his hand. He leans in, close to Patrick’s ear, and whispers, “I love you. I’m sorry.”

Patrick returns his smile. “I love you too babe. We’re gonna be okay.”

He’s starting to believe it.

…

“You don’t havta wear long sleeves, y’know. It’s not like I don’t know what’s under there.”

Brendon shrugs, playing with a loose string on his sweater. “It’s cold.”

Ryan rolls his eyes. “Can I at least ask why?”

Brendon stares at him, not wanting to dignify that absurd of a question with an answer. What the hell does he mean, why? Because he was in a _coma_ for two months? Because everything went to shit too fast for him to keep up? Because he’s a fucking weakass bastard that can’t handle pain any other way? “I don’t know.”

“Yeah you do.”

“I’m not gonna sit here and let you interrogate me on what I did while you were in a _coma_. You don’t get to do that. You were _dying_.”

“I get that,” Ryan says softly. “I know things were bad. And I’m not tryna blame you. I’m just…this is the only way I know how ta help. Get to the root of the problem and then work on solving it.”

“You were in a coma,” Brendon repeats. “What more do you want from me?”

Ryan sighs. “It’s not healthy to put your life completely at the mercy of someone else. You’re saying if I died, you’d kill yourself, and that’s not…that’s not right, Bren. I can’t be your only reason to live.”

“You are. It’s a compliment.”

“It’s a guilt trip,” Ryan deadpans. “And besides, if I did die…I would’ve wanted you ta be happy, B. I would’ve wanted you to live the life I wasn’t gonna. I definitely wouldn’t have wanted you ta join me.”

“Good thing I don’t live my life the way _you_ want then, isn’t it?” Brendon shoots back hotly. The heat is rising in his cheeks and his heart is racing. He feels shaky and sort of dizzy, like he’s just signed up to ride a rollercoaster he’s petrified of.

“God, would you _please_ stop fighting me?” Ryan growls. Brendon’s never heard him this angry before. It’s the kind of anger that’s bordering on rage, with a rasp accompanying the growl to sound that much more terrifying. “I’m tryna fuckin’ _help_ you, dammit.”

He squeaks out what seems to be between a whimper and a sob, pulling his knees to his chest and burying his face in them. “S-Sorry.” 

It’s a couple seconds before he feels a hand on his back. Ryan scoots over to him and wraps his free arm around his shoulders. “Bren…I’m sorry. That came out wrong. You know I love you, right?”

“Yeah,” Brendon hiccups tearfully. “I just…everyone’s tryin’ so hard ta fix me, but…what if I don’t need fixing? I don’t think m’broken. I just need you, I’ve needed you so much these past few months, and now that I have you I can’t even try ta be happy because everyone’s so determined ta fix what they think broke in the last two months.”

“Oh B, oh baby…” Ryan whispers, stroking his cheek. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I made you feel like that, fuck, I had no idea…”

“S’okay,” Brendon mumbles. 

“What can I do? How can I help you?”

“Hold me. And don’t go. Don’t go anywhere. Just stay.”

And an hour later, when he’s lying against Ryan’s chest with Ryan’s hands in his hair and their legs intertwined, he lets himself breathe out.

He wishes they could stay like this forever.

…

“15, 25, 30…yeah, this should be enough.”

Kellin folds the bills and pockets them, zipping up his jacket and grabbing a set of car keys. “I’m just goin’ to the park, I’ll be back in a couple hours!” 

“Alright babe, drive safe!”

He smiles as he lets himself out of the house. Everything is going according to plan. He has two hours to make the payment and get the goods, and maybe even a little extra time to enjoy his winnings. 

It’s going to be perfect.

He backs out of the driveway and swivels the wheel to the left. He’s supposed to meet with the guy downtown, in an alley behind one of those shitty little convenient stores. That part of town is scary. It’s right near the gang territory Pierce the Veil inhabits, and he knows that they’re not the only gang stationed there. It’s dangerous and he’s taking a huge risk by even doing this.

It’s starting to become apparent to him, why Vic turned to drugs after he got raped. It’s just easy. Numbness is the best feeling. Why feel sad when you can feel _nothing_?

He remembers the first line of coke he ever did. It was in an alleyway much like the one he’s on his way to, right after he got the news about his father’s cancer. That started and ended his downward spiral. Watching his father die, promising he’d go on and live his life…he thought he’d be okay once it was over. He thought after the funeral he could learn to move on, never really be over what happened but keep his father inside him and bring his spirit into everything he did. 

And then his mom started drinking too much and hooking up with her dealer boyfriend and one day they were drunk fucking in the room across the hall while he was trying to sleep and the next bursting through the door proclaiming proudly that they’d just gotten married.

His father’s body was barely cold and she had already remarried. 

And that dealer of hers, that bastard who posed as his father to everyone including Jordan and Quinn and Vic and all the other kids in the group home…he was gross. Just fucking disgusting. He shudders just thinking about it. 

He turns and the car starts to bounce up and down on the unpaved road, as he gets further and further into the bad part of town. The convenient store isn’t much farther ahead. He was told to park a ways away so an unsuspecting police officer can’t find his car and get his license plate number.

He needs this. He’s having nightmares again and this is the only surefire way to get rid of them. It’s not healthy and it’s wrecking almost three years of sobriety but it’s better than dreams about weird pills shoved down his throat and waking up to bloody boxers and realizing they were flashbacks not dreams and he was drugged and raped by the _pervert_ who married his _mom_.

The worst part was she almost did it too.

Too high to know where she was, too intoxicated to know what was going on, she was unzipping his pants and pressing a finger to his lips and promising he’d like it.

She turned away for a millisecond, and he ran.

He ran and never looked back.

He parallel parks in front of a tiny department store and jumps out of the car, pressing the button on the keys to lock it, and begins making his way down the street. The alley comes up just after the convenient store, a dark path that opens up to a large gravel area that’s lined with homeless drug addicts. Most of them are asleep but a couple shoot dirty looks in his direction. He winces and keeps his head down, turning so his back is against a wall and shoving his hands in his pockets to wait.

“Quinn?”

The voice is gruff. When he looks up, he sees a man who looks not much older than him, dressed in black jeans and a leather jacket. He’s also wearing gloves and sunglasses. “Well? Are you Quinn or aren’t you?”

“Y-Yeah,” Kellin says nervously. He moves to hold out a hand but decides against it at the last second. This guy doesn’t look like he’s in the mood for pleasantries. “D-Do you have it…?”

“You kiddin’? ‘Course I have it.” He reaches into the pocket of his jacket and pulls out a bag of tiny white pills. “The question is…do _you_ have my money?”

Kellin nods and pulls the wad of cash out of his jeans. His hands are shaking as he hands it over, and the guy laughs. “Scared, kid? Ya don’t look like the kinda guy ta be into this shit.”

“There’s a kind?”

“Oh yeah,” he drawls. “And it’s not little emo fags like you.”

“I, um-”

“Aw, relax.” He shrugs. “Don’ get your panties in a knot. After this you’re never gonna see me a- is this some kind of fucking _joke_?” His voice goes lower and angrier with every word. He glares at Kellin with narrow eyes and clenches the bills in his fists. “Are you fuckin’ with me, you little punk?”

“I don’t know w-what you mean…” He’s trembling now. His hands won’t stop shaking and his heart is racing. 

“You fucking _stiffed_ me!” He throws the money on the ground and grabs the collar of Kellin’s shirt, moving his face so close their noses are touching. “ _No one_ stiffs me, you hear?”

“I didn’t, I thought that was enough, I’m sorry,” Kellin rambles. “I don’t have anymore.”

“That’s too bad, isn’t it?” His breath is rank. Kellin squeezes his eyes shut, trying with every ounce of strength he has not to cry. 

The next few moments blur together.

The man’s knee comes flying up, straight into his crotch, and he screams, falling to the ground, head smacking against the concrete. He brings his knees into his chest and keeps his eyes closed.

It’s a flurry of punches and kicks after that. He has to have called for backup; the number of feet and fists at Kellin’s body are too many for one person. There’s a lot of pressure on his side from what feels like a foot, and then the pain hits.

He screams again.

The pain is everywhere, white-hot and burning.

There’s not one part of his body that doesn’t hurt.

He can’t move. 

He can’t speak.

He can’t _breathe_.

It feels like a dream.

He wants to wake up in his bed at home with Vic curled next to him and none of this having ever happened. He wants to wake up. 

Hewantstowakeuphewantstowakeupthisisadreamthisisadream.

_Vicwhere’sVicfuckwhereisheIwanthimIneedhim_

He doesn’t remember anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...thoughts? I kinda saved the worst for last, as you can see. Badly beaten by a drug dealer he was trying to buy from...the jury really isn't gonna like that... 
> 
> Additionally though, I did wanna talk to you guys about a couple things. I've been working on a Waterparks story for a few weeks now, a canon compliant about all the drama that's going on that'll hopefully eventually become Gawsten. Is anyone interested? I was going to post it, but I don't want to keep writing something no one wants to read.
> 
> Aside from that, I really should've mentioned this sooner, but if you want periodical story updates, follow me on Twitter: theghostofafi (usually tweets about my life and how writing is going) and tumblr: theghostofashton (I love waterparks a little too much and I have a lot to say about it). I don't really post sneak peak previews, but I might start. ;) 
> 
> And finally, next chapter, aftermath of this plus a really cute Cashton scene that gives you more insight into Calum's past. The more comments I get, the quicker you get the chapter.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	47. Chapter 47

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings - panic attacks, anxiety, and mentions of drug abuse.

It’s been three hours since Kellin left the house and Vic is worried.

He said he’d be gone a couple and while Vic knows that doesn’t always necessarily mean two, it’s past three hours and he’s starting to wonder what’s going on.

Where’s Kellin? Why isn’t he answering his phone? Is he okay? Did he get into an accident? Did something happen to him? 

“Try his phone again,” Jordan instructs. “If he doesn’t pick up we’re going looking.”

Vic does as she says, and once again, he gets Kellin’s answering machine. As the recorded message plays in his ear, he shakes his head, biting his lip. 

“Fuck Kells, where are you? I know you don’t wanna talk about things and that’s okay but can you just call or text me so I know you’re okay? It’s been three hours and I’m so worried about you, mom and I are about to come lookin’, I just…call me back love, tell me you’re okay, I’m so worried about you.”

“Alright c’mon.” Jordan grabs her keys and jacket and motions to the front door. “Let’s go.”

They’re in the car, just having backed out of the driveway, when he has the idea. He turns to Jordan with wide eyes. “Can’t we track his phone?”

“Holy shit,” she says. “Yeah we can, if you know his password. Do you know it?”

He nods, pulling up the app on his phone and quickly typing Kellin’s information in. He grits his teeth as it loads. 

_Please, please, please be at the park_.

When Kellin’s location finally comes up, he just stares. His heart sinks into his stomach.

“Well? What does it say?”

“He’s…he’s in the alley behind the 7-Eleven downtown…”

“ _Shit_.” Jordan slams on the accelerator and the wheels squeal as they speed down the road. “Hang on, kiddo. We gotta get there before-”

“I know,” Vic whispers.

He stares out the window as Jordan drives. His mind is racing. He knows why people go that alley. He knows why _he’s_ gone to that alley. He’s been scared of this ever since they got the news about the trials. 

He’s surprised they don’t get a speeding ticket by the time they reach the area, but fortunately for them, the universe is deciding to be lenient. Jordan parks quickly and they both leap out. 

The worst part of this is…he’s been here before. He’s practically got this place memorized. This is the best place to meet up with dealers. It’s in a part of town cops aren’t, there’s privacy and secrecy and an option to hide if things do start to get hairy. 

Kellin was looking for drugs.

“ _Fuck_.” Jordan’s voice breaks and when Vic skids to a halt next to her, he sees why.

He feels sick.

There’s Kellin, unconscious and covered in blood, lying limp on the concrete. Vic runs up to him and drops to his knees beside his body, feeling the sting as he hits the ground but paying no attention to it. 

Kellin’s nose is bleeding and his eyes are blackened. There’s blood coming from his head and Vic can already see bruises forming. 

“Kells,” he chokes out. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until he feels the tears dripping down his cheeks. He reaches for Kellin’s seemingly unharmed hand and presses his lips to it. “Can you hear me?”

“Mm…” Kellin moans. He blinks rapidly, and then immediately squeezes his eyes shut. “Hurts…”

“I know,” Vic cries, leaning up over his body and stretching downward to kiss all over his face. “We gotcha baby, you’re gonna be fine. Stay with me, okay? Focus on me. I’m here. I love you.”

Kellin gazes at him through lidded eyes. “V-Vic…sorry…”

“No,” Vic says firmly. “You have _nothing_ to be sorry for. _I’m_ sorry. I love you. You’re gonna be okay.”

“Mm…love…” That’s all he manages before his eyes slide shut again, and Vic sobs, pillowing his head on Kellin’s abdomen.

How the fuck did this happen?

…

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come down there? Mhm. Yeah. Okay. Tell Vic to hang in there. I’ll see you soon. I love you.”

Quinn touches a button on her phone and turns around with a sigh. “They checked him out, and there are no major life-threatening injuries or anything that requires surgery, but…it’s still pretty bad. He’s gonna be in pain for a while.”

“I don’t get how this happened.”

“He wanted to meet his dealer.”

“I know _what_ happened, just not how.”

“No one knows that,” Quinn says. “He wasn’t conscious long enough to say anything. We’ll know more when he wakes up. He’s got a concussion, but it’s not severe. There’s no brain damage.”

“Thank god.” That’s Brendon, and he tightens his grip on Ryan’s waist as he says it. “I really didn’t want him ta havta go through this…”

Ryan pecks his lips and he smiles, cupping his cheek. Alex turns away to look at his own boyfriend. Jack’s gaze is turned to the floor, but he can see his lip quivering. Alex slides onto his lap and uses his thumb to wipe the tears away, forcing a smile and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“What, um…what are his other injuries?”

“Broken ribs, shattered wrist, dislocated knee, and bruising. A lot of really bad bruising. They messed him up pretty badly.”

“And Vic’s…”

“Not good.” Quinn slides off the couch and starts for the kitchen. “They’re probably gonna keep him overnight for observation. Vic might be allowed to stay but if he’s not, I want one of you to sleep in his room with him tonight. Geoff, it doesn’t havta be you, I know you’re struggling with sleep as it is. You and Awsten should take Awsten’s room tonight though.”

“I’ll do it,” Brendon volunteers. “I know how it feels.”

“Thanks sweetheart.” Quinn smiles weakly at him. “The rest of you, go get some sleep.”

“Shouldn’t someone go get the car Kellin took?”

She hesitates. “It’s late. I don’t know if I’m comfortable with more of you going out there…”

“Please mama,” Pete says. “Patrick and I can go. I’ll drive the car back and Patrick can follow me.”

“Alright, fine. Call me when you get there and be _careful_ , okay?”

“We will.”

…

He looks so much worse with all the bandages.

When they first found him Vic had no idea his arm was broken and his kneecap was dislocated. It didn’t look that bad. But now, seeing Kellin’s small body in the hospital bed with the cast on his forearm and brace on his knee and bandages around his head, he looks so small and broken and _fragile_.

Vic walks over to the side of his bed, right up to his head, and leans down to kiss his forehead. “I love you, Kells. I love you so fucking much. I know I’ve been kinda a shitty boyfriend recently and I’m sorry. You deserve better and I wanna be better. I wanna help you.”

“Mm…”

“Kells? Kellin?” Vic’s heart starts to race again. He squeezes Kellin’s good hand, searching his face for a sign of consciousness. “I’m right here baby, I’m here, it’s okay.”

Kellin blinks and then immediately squeezes his eyes shut. “Wha…hurts…”

“You’re gonna be okay,” Vic promises, bringing Kellin’s hand to his lips. “You’re pretty banged up but you’ll be fine I promise.”

“Hurts,” Kellin chokes out. His voice sounds raw. He swallows and looks up at Vic, and Vic, seeing the tears collecting in his eyes, leans down and kisses the corners of his eyes, intertwining their fingers together tightly. 

“I’m here,” he repeats. “I gotcha. You’re okay.”

“M’sorry…”

“No,” Vic says firmly. “You have _nothing_ to be sorry for, you hear me? _Nothing_. I’m sorry I didn’t see this coming. I should’ve known. I shouldn’t have left you alone, you’re never gonna be alone again, okay? I’m here. For everything.”

“Not…” Kellin’s voice breaks and he winces. “Not your fault…I…didn’t know…price went up…”

Vic wants to argue but he knows that’s the last thing Kellin needs right now. He needs to rest and he can’t do that if he works himself up over this. So Vic nods, forcing a smile. “They’re gettin’ expensive, huh?”

“Had 30,” Kellin gasps. “Still not enough…”

“Don’t worry about that now,” Vic tells him. “Just rest. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

“Everything hurts…”

“I know, I’m sorry.” He glances at the IV helplessly. “They said they’re giving you all the morphine you can have.”

“Lay with me.” Kellin grips his hand and blinks up at him. “Please. Need you.”

Vic hesitates. “I don’t wanna hurt you.” There are bandages and tubes everywhere he looks. He doesn’t want to disturb anything and he definitely doesn’t want to cause Kellin any pain.

“Won’t…” Kellin whispers. “Need you…cuddles…”

“Okay.” He nods and carefully helps Kellin scoot over to one side of the bed. He wedges his body into the small space that’s left, turning onto his side and draping an arm across Kellin’s stomach. “I gotcha baby. You’re gonna be okay.”

“Love you…”

“I love you too.” He pushes up onto his elbow to peck Kellin’s lips once before Kellin starts to drift off. “I love you so much.”

…

“That really sucks, what happened to Kellin.”

“I don’t know what I’d do if it were you.”

“It won’t be.” Ashton holds open his arms and Calum smiles, shrugging off his sweatshirt and pulling off his pants. He climbs into the bed and buries his face in Ashton’s chest. Ashton’s arms wind around his back and he lifts his head slightly, just enough to peck his lips.

“I can’t lose you,” Calum whispers. He didn’t think it was possible to fall in love with someone this quickly. Compared to everyone else, he and Ashton haven’t been dating for long at all, but in these couple months he’s learned how incomplete his life was before Ashton. He’s learned how to be a whole person, found the missing puzzle piece to complete what he previously assumed to be a full life. 

“You won’t, Cal,” Ashton says gently, kissing the top of his head. “No matter what happens with the trial, we’ll always be together. We’ll always have us.”

‘What if I havta go back?” Calum asks. “They hate that I’m gay. It’s why they kicked me out in the first place. What if they make me go ta one of those camps?”

He’s heard the stories. Electric shocks and isolation and bible verses drilled into your head until you become so fucked up you associate being gay with indescribable pain. Some people are never the same after that. They come back hating something they once were, brainwashed by a system that doesn’t even make sense.

He can feel Ashton’s heartbeat. It’s fast but steady, a constant rhythm he’s gotten used to falling asleep to every night. He can’t imagine sleeping without Ashton, forced to spend each night in a dark room without a warm body next to him. Ashton’s heat is abundant and his warmth is enveloping, overwhelming in the best way. 

“Honestly,” Ashton sighs. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen. None of us does. And if you havta go back…it’ll be the worst thing to ever happen to us. It’ll be misery. But we’ll work through it. We’ll get through, no matter what. And those camps…you’re not going to one. Not if I can help it. You’re gonna be okay, Cal.”

“I’m always okay if I have you.”

“Aw, I love you,” Ashton coos. Calum grins up at him, pressing his lips to Ashton’s softly. This is one thing he’ll never get used to. Kissing Ashton is a feeling that he can’t put into words, a feeling that takes over his entire body and leaves him tingly and warm afterward. The sparks the movies talk about, the clichés that are in every sappy romantic comedy…he never thought they were real until he felt them for himself and now he wonders what kissing someone without them feels like.

He hopes he never has to find out.

He hopes he and Ashton can stay like this forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? For those of you who wanted to read it, the story I mentioned last chapter is up! It's called worst, just go to my profile and you'll find it. Next chapter, Kellin comes home, Jordan and Quinn discuss how this is going to affect his trial, and Awsten has...a bad night...
> 
> The more comments I get, the quicker you get the chapter.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	48. Chapter 48

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning - anxiety, panic attacks, mentions of depression, suicidal thoughts, homophobia, and abuse.

“Got it?”

“It hurts.”

“Just to the wheelchair.”

“And then into the car,” Kellin groans. “Ow, fuck, that hurts too. I can’t fuckin’ move without wantin’ ta cry.”

The pain is everywhere. It’s not localized to one specific part of his body – it’s everywhere and constant and there’s a building lump in his throat that gets bigger every time he so much as laughs the wrong way.

“I gotcha, c’mon.” Vic’s hands are planted firmly on his waist to help him keep balance, although even that hurts. It feels like he’s one giant walking bruise. He takes a shaky step forward and stops, screwing his eyes shut. “You’re okay, keep going.”

“It _hurts_ , Vic,” he grounds out. “I can’t.”

“We’re almost there baby,” Vic murmurs, breath warm against his ear. “And you get ta go home after this.”

He swallows, the lump in his throat throbbing painfully, and nods. Vic helps him take the couple steps over to the wheelchair, and he breathes out a sigh when he sits down, blinking against the tears in his eyes. “Fuck.”

Vic kneels in front of him with a smile, pouting his lips for a kiss. Kellin leans in and presses his lips to Vic’s, wrapping his arms around his neck.

“Alright Kellin, you’re ready to- oh wow, are we interrupting something?” He can practically hear the smirk in Jordan’s voice. He pulls back and smiles sheepishly, keeping a hold on Vic’s hand.

“He was in pain,” Vic says, in lieu of explanation.

“So we can expect this all over the house for the next few weeks?” Quinn rolls her eyes. “He’s gonna be in pain for a long time, kiddo.”

“Thanks,” Kellin mutters.

“We’ve got prescriptions for meds,” Jordan tells him. “But with your other meds, you can’t take too high a dose of narcotics.”

“Great.” 

“It’s gonna be okay,” Vic murmurs. He straightens, and walks around behind the wheelchair. Kellin grimaces as it starts to move and they exit the hospital. Vic steers him all the way to the car, and he gazes up at the vehicle, heart already starting to speed up in anticipation of what’s about to happen.

The transfer to the car hurts just as much as he thought it would. He tastes blood on his lip from how hard he bites it. But eventually, when he’s finally in the seat and Vic climbs in beside him and pulls him close, he lets his head fall onto Vic’s shoulder and closes his eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Vic says softly. “You’re gonna be okay Kells. I promise.”

…

“You guys have a small ass room, jesus christ.”

“You’re on my foot!”

“Get the hell away from me!”

“Fuck you!”

“Fuck you too!”

“Can you all go _two minutes_ without arguing?” 

They’re all gathered in Awsten and Kellin’s room, and due to the sheer amount of people, they’re packed like sardines. Awsten had the right idea, jumping onto his bed and pulling Geoff with him. 

“How do you feel?” Frank asks. 

Kellin winces and shifts against Vic. Vic presses a kiss to the side of his head and holds him tighter. “If I’m hurting you tell me, okay?”

“Yeah,” Kellin whispers. He raises his voice when he looks at Frank. “Everything hurts. It’s hell. But I guess I deserve it, s’my fault for goin’ over there in the first place.”

“What…what were you doing?” Alex asks. 

Kellin sighs. “I…I was gonna meet my dealer. I haven’t bought in a couple years so I didn’t know they charge more now. He thought I was stiffing him. And the next thing I know I’m on the ground.”

“We _are_ gonna have Lucas come up here and talk to you about that,” Quinn says. “Don’t think we’ve forgotten about it.”

“I know,” he mumbles. “I just…I just wanna sleep. My head really hurts. And I feel sick.”

“Why don’t we let you get some rest then?” Jordan suggests. “Come on, all of you out. Leave them alone.”

Everyone files out slowly, and Kellin watches them go through lidded eyes. He lets his head flop onto Vic’s shoulder and hides his face. His head is pounding. The ache is big, loud, and throbbing, pain pulsating through his skull at a rapid rate. 

He just wants to go to sleep.

“There’s a bucket on the nightstand if you need it baby, okay?” Vic murmurs. “But try and wake me if you need to. I know moving hurts your ribs.”

“Everything hurts my ribs,” Kellin mumbles dryly. 

“Do you guys care if we hang here?” Awsten calls. “We can go to Geoff’s room if you wanna be alone.”

“You’re good,” Vic replies. “As long as you’re quiet you’re fine.” He shifts to pull the covers over them and it jostles Kellin. He bites his lip to hold in the scream, but it comes out anyway, as a loud groan.

“Fuck,” he breathes, blinking against the tears in his eyes. “Warn a guy next time, would ya? Moving at all is fuckin’ hell.”

“Sorry sorry,” Vic says quickly, pecking his cheek. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” Kellin snuggles closer, trying to ignore the sparks of pain that burn every time he so much as shifts his weight. He presses his face into Vic’s chest and breathes in, inhaling the vanilla and cologne mixed together, a scent that shouldn’t work but does because it’s just so _Vic_.

This is all he wanted. When he was lying on the ground, bleeding, about to lose consciousness, this is what he was wishing for. This is as close to that as he can possibly get. Of course, pain in every orifice of his body wasn’t on the agenda, but everything else is perfect.

…

“This is definitely going to throw a wrench in things…”

“How bad is it gonna be?” Quinn asks. She takes the glass of wine Jordan hands her and sips it delicately with a forced smile. Jordan sets her own glass on the island and wraps her arms around Quinn’s waist, resting her chin in the crook of her neck as they both turn their gazes to Laura.

“Well, the judge is definitely not going to take kindly to Kellin getting beat up while he was out looking for drugs.” She sighs. “I’m really trying here, you have to understand that. I’m looking for every loophole I possibly can, but when your boys do these destructive things…there’s no positive way to spin it. There’s no way to make light of this situation. It looks bad either way and all it’s going to do is tell the judge that Kellin _should_ go back to his parents.”

Quinn inhales. She slips a hand into Jordan’s and squeezes.

It’s hard. She loves them – she loves them with all her heart, but Laura is right. They keep doing these _stupid_ , self-destructive things, not realizing that they’re making everything worse. They’re trying so hard to keep them all here, but it might not happen because the boys keep trying to take matters into their own hands and making bad decisions.

“So what happens now?” Jordan asks. “How do we help them?”

“From what you’ve told me about Alex, you’ll have no problem keeping him. Rian Dawson’s testimony and the scar on his back are more than enough evidence. Awsten should follow suit. Otto Wood’s testimony is plenty. And Frank…his body is covered in proof. Ray Toro has agreed to testify. He should be easy as well. All of this will work according to plan, just as long as we’re able to explain Alex and Awsten’s relapses and why Awsten hasn’t been gaining much weight.”

“Which you said explaining mental illness…the therapist we have coming to the house said he would be glad to help,” Quinn says. “And he’s got a PhD, so his word is pretty valid.”

“Right.” She flips a couple pages in her book and sighs. “Now, onto Luke, Calum, and Kellin. That’s where the biggest problem is going to be. Luke ran away. Calum and Kellin were kicked out. But there is no proof that their parents were abusive or unfit. That’s where we have to dig deep and try and scrape up every scrap of evidence we can, or you could lose them.”

“How?” Quinn’s voice breaks. She turns her head into Jordan’s shoulder and blinks against the tears. 

Feeling powerless is the worst feeling in the world. The helplessness is overwhelming, pushing on her shoulders, heavy as the weight of the world. She wants to do _something, anything_ to keep her babies where they are, but it’s not at her control. She doesn’t have any say in what happens. She doesn’t have any say in who stays and who goes, or even _if_ anyone goes.

“Luke has two brothers, correct? And Calum has a sister?”

“Yeah. And Kellin has two brothers and two sisters but they’re…not really on good terms. One of Luke’s brothers is in the army, the other one lives with his fiancé but I’m not sure where… And Calum’s sister is in college, but I don’t know what school she goes to,” Jordan replies.

“Contact them. See if they’re willing to testify. Anything they say can help.”

“What about Kellin?” Jordan asks. “Can’t we lie about how he got beat up so we _don’t_ have to tell the judge it was drugs that caused this?”

Laura sighs. “We could, if he hadn’t already given a statement to the police. I don’t think he realized that when it was happening. He told the police the truth and now they have it in writing so-”

“It’s perjury.”

“Exactly.”

“ _Dammit_.”

“Do you really think we can do this?” Quinn whispers. “I can’t…I love them all so much, I can’t even think about any of them leaving.”

“They won’t,” Jordan promises, kissing her cheek. “We’ll fight. We’ll fight with all we have.”

“Oh yes, I almost forgot,” the lawyer says. “You two. You’re allowed to testify. I’m assuming you’re willing to?”

“Put us through the damn ringer,” Quinn says tearfully. “Anything to keep our babies home with us.”

…

“ _Please, I’m sorry, please don’t!”_

_He scrambles backward until his back hits the wall and stares, blinking against the wetness in his eyes. Tears drip onto his jeans and he clenches his fists, willing them to stop shaking._

_“You should’ve thought about that before you started kissing that_ boy, _huh?”_

_His father’s tone is murderous. The twisted glare on his face is making the veins in his neck bulge. Awsten presses himself into the wall, further and further, ducking his head and covering it with his arms._

_“Please, I’m sorry, please…”_

_“It’s too late for that now, you filthy fucking_ faggot!” _A meaty hand clenches the collar of his shirt and drags him forward. He screams, squeezing his eyes shut, hands covering his face. What’s coming is terrifying. He’s well-aware of all of it but that arguably makes it more scary because he knows what’s going to happen and he knows how much it hurts and he knows that tomorrow morning is going to be one from hell._

_The first hit is quick. His head smacks against the wall but he doesn’t lose consciousness. He wishes he would. It stings, but he can’t focus on that for too long because he gets a knee to the stomach and a black eye to follow it._

_The beating goes on and on. He doesn’t remember when it ends. It just keeps going and going, his dad is so mad at him he’ssomadhe’sgonnakillhimhe’sdeadhe’sgonnadie._

_“Are you still gay, boy?”_

_He’s shaking._

_Everything hurts._

_He wishes he were dead._

_He wants to shoot himself._

_End the torture._

_Another punch to the gut and he gasps._

_“Answer me when I’m fuckin’ talkin’ to ya.”_

_“N-No,” he forces out. The pain is overwhelming. He’s seeing spots and he’s dizzy and everything is blurry._

_“No one would ever love a_ faggot _like you anyway_.”

Awsten shoots up in bed, gasping painfully. His chest is tight. He can’t stop shaking. 

“Aws? Hey baby, you okay? That looked pretty bad…” Geoff places a hand on his back and cranes his neck to look him in the eye.

“G-Gee…” That’s all he gets out before he’s sobbing. Geoff manhandles him and he finds himself curled into his chest, head buried in his shirt, tears just coming and coming and coming.

Itwon’tstopitwon’the’severywherehe’scominghe’sgonnagethimhe’sgonnakillhim.

He can’t see _him_ again.

He won’t survive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Things aren't looking so good for Kellin...and these nightmares Awsten's having...let's just say, things don't get better. Next chapter's a long one. Be prepared. A lot happens. Kellin finds out how hard the trial's gonna be, Awsten and Geoff have a session with Lucas about Geoff's nightmares that ends...badly, Michael and Luke talk, followed by Alex making a comment that just might mark the end of something so fragile with Jack. It's a doozy. The more comments I get, the quicker it's yours.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	49. Chapter 49

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning - anxiety, panic attacks, self-harm, mentions of abuse, mentions of eating disorders, and mentions of depression.
> 
> Strap yourselves in, guys. It's a long one.

“I really meant to do this earlier, but with everything that’s going on, it kinda got away from me. But we’re here now. And we need to talk about it.”

Awsten bites his lip and meets Geoff’s eyes across the room. “I…can I please sit with him? I…”

“He had a really bad nightmare last night,” Geoff explains. “He’s still shaken up.”

“Go ahead kid.” Lucas shoots Awsten a smile. “You okay?”

Awsten stumbles to his feet and wobbles across the carpet. He barely makes it there and collapses in Geoff’s lap, burying his face in his chest. He doesn’t want to be here. He doesn’t want to do this. He doesn’t want to do anything. He just wants to be in bed with Geoff, away from the real world and everything shitty about it.

“He’s listening,” Geoff says, rubbing his back. “Just talk. He…this is the best you’re gonna get from him.”

Awsten breathes out, tears soaking into Geoff’s shirt. He can’t do this. He can’t function he can’t think he can’t breathe everything is about them he has to see them he has to face them they want him back they want him they’re gonna kill him.

“N-no stop please I’m sorry I promise I’m not gay!”

He chokes, lifting his head and coughing painfully. It hurts his chest. His head is throbbing. He wants to die he doesn’t want to live anymore he doesn’t want to do this he wants to be dead please death please.

 _Please_.

…

“What do I do?”

Geoff stares frantically at Lucas. Awsten is scrabbling against his chest, arms moving and legs kicking out at the air. He’s not sleeping but he’s clearly not awake. 

“Is holding him helping?”

“What do you mean?”

“Rub his back. Hold him close. Kiss him. All that comforting shit. And see if his heart starts to slow down and his breathing starts to ease. If it does, keep doing it. If not, you gotta back away and let the hallucination run its course,” Lucas tells him.

“Hallucination?”

“Don’t worry about that right now,” Lucas mutters. “Try. Calm him down.”

And Geoff does. He’s rubbing Awsten’s back with one hand and tangling his fingers through his hair with the other. He presses feather-light kisses to Awsten’s cheeks. He tastes salty. The tears are everywhere.

Fortunately for him (but mainly for Awsten), Awsten’s flailing and thrashing stops. He starts to go limp in Geoff’s arms, still making little whimpers and choking out sobs but not freaking out anymore. Geoff exhales tiredly, holding him closer and kissing his hair. 

“Good,” Lucas says. “He’s coming out of it.”

“Wha…what happened?” Awsten’s voice is wrecked. He sounds like he’s been gargling gravel, hoarse and raw. 

“You had a flashback,” Lucas informs him. “A hallucination. Sort of like a nightmare, but you were awake.”

“That can happen?” 

“Yeah. They’re not as frequent, and they almost all end in some kinda panic attack.”

“Oh.”

“How do I help him?” Geoff asks. “What can I do?”

“Well, this is clearly brought on by everything going on with the trial,” Lucas says. “The fear of seeing his parents is taking over. It’s not gonna go away until the trial does.”

Geoff bites his lip. Awsten is curled completely into his chest. His shirt is wet with his tears. He’s still shaking. The whole thing is so heartbreaking. He finally knows exactly what Awsten feels every time he has a nightmare. He doesn’t know how he handles it, because this…this is killing him. Being powerless is awful.

“What can _I_ do?” He repeats. “I can’t sit here and do nothing.”

“All he needs is support,” Lucas says. “Love and support. That’s the best you can do for him. He needs you to be strong because he can’t be.”

“It doesn’t feel like enough.”

“It is,” Awsten rasps. He lifts his head and Geoff leans in immediately, pressing kisses under each eye. His face is swollen and his eyes are bloodshot. “It’s everything. If I didn’t have that I’d be dead. I just need you, Gee. And I’ll be okay.”

“Can we go?” Geoff turns back to Lucas, shifting Awsten in his arms. “He needs to sleep. We’re okay. We can talk about what happened when the trial’s over. He’s not stable enough for it.”

“Yeah, definitely,” Lucas agrees. “Something that’d really help…get an icepack or cold towel and put it on his forehead. And you can give him a double dose of Xanax tonight.”

“He’s out,” Geoff mutters. “We havta get the prescription renewed.”

“What?” Lucas looks at them with wide eyes. “You need to get that done. Now. Withdrawal is hell and being unmedicated is only going to make this worse. He needs that Xanax, now more than ever.”

“I’ll talk to moms.”

“No, I’ll take care of it,” Lucas replies. “You just focus on getting him better, okay? And Awsten…try to take it easy, alright kiddo? I know it’s hard. I know the anxiety is bad. I know you’re terrified. Just rest. Give your mind a break. It really needs one.”

Awsten forces a smile. “I’ll try. My head really hurts.”

“Yeah, that’s normal,” Lucas says. “Just pop some Tylenol and you’ll be okay tomorrow morning. Take care of yourself. Whatever you’re feeling, talk to your moms. Or Geoff. I know you’re more comfortable with him. Tell him what’s going on and he’ll help. You’re not alone, please try and remember that. I know it may feel like you have no one, but you’ve got all of us in your corner and a boyfriend that loves you with everything he’s got. You’ll be okay.”

…

“Hey Lukey?”

“Hm?” Luke hums against him. Michael shifts slightly, tightening his arms around Luke’s chest and pressing a kiss to the shell of his ear. 

“How long’sit been since you talked to your brothers?”

Luke’s entire body tenses. He goes rigid in Michael’s arms and Michael winces. He didn’t want to have to ask, but Jordan and Quinn forced him to, knowing it’d come across better if it came from him. “Not since I left. Why?”

“I was talkin’ to moms earlier,” Michael says. “And they said that your best bet would be gettin’ one or both of them to testify and talk about how your parents were shitty. ‘Cause otherwise they have no proof.”

“Ben’s in the army,” Luke says hollowly. “And Jack has a girlfriend. Maybe he married her. Maybe they broke up. I don’t know. They never cared about me. Never…they never even tried to find me.”

“Luke,” Michael sighs. He slides out from behind Luke and scoots forward, turning to face him. “We needa call them. We needa try.”

“They don’t care about me,” Luke whispers. “I don’t wanna talk to them. I _can’t_.”

“You have to,” Michael murmurs. “You havta get them ta testify or we’re gonna lose you Lukey. I know it’s hard but it’s so much better than having to go back to your parents, isn’t it?”

“They didn’t care,” Luke repeats. He’s staring at Michael but not looking at him. It’s almost like he’s looking _through_ him, like he’s just empty. “No one ever cared. It’s just me. All alone. All the time. No one ever cared.”

“Hey.” Michael lifts his chin and pecks his lips. “It’s not just you. It hasn’t been just you for two years now. It’s you and me. Both of us. Together. I care about you. I always have and I always will. You saved me, Lukey, and now it’s my turn to save you.”

A hint of a grin pokes out onto Luke’s face. “What sappy ass romance novel did you pull that out of?”

“Hey, I can be romantic!” He sticks his tongue out at Luke, glaring at him. “I’m a romantic guy!”

“You’re a _dorky_ guy,” Luke corrects, giggling. “But you’re _my_ dorky guy, so it’s okay.”

He leans up for another kiss and Michael smiles into it, wrapping his arms around Luke’s waist. Luke’s own arms come up to wind around his neck and they press their foreheads together when they break for air, panting and smiling and breathing each other in.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Did you lock the door?”

“Yep.”

Luke smirks and pushes Michael to the bed, straddling him and tugging at the hem of his shirt. “May just be me, but you’re wearing too many clothes…”

“Oh?” Luke laughs. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

“I’m gonna take them off.”

“Be my guest.”

…

“I hate _both_ of you.”

“We said we were sorry!”

“Mikey told me the door was locked!”

“It fuckin’ wasn’t!” Calum snaps. “Because if it was I wouldn’t have walked in on a fucking _porno_!”

He stomps his foot in frustration and Alex giggles, leaning over to whisper in Jack’s ear, “we’re never gonna force Ash to see that are we?”

Jack’s smile seems to freeze on his face. “You…you’ve been thinking about that?”

Alex stops. The amusement, the light-heartedness, the laughter…all of it begins to fade, only to be replaced by the fear, the anxiety, the self-doubt. “I, um…no? Not really. I just…it was justa joke, Jack.”

Jack shakes his head. “If that’s what you want I can’t do this.” He moves to get up but Alex grabs his wrist tightly. “Fuck, let go.”

“No,” Alex mutters. “You needa stay here and talk this out with me because I won’t let one stupid fuckin’ joke be the thing that destroys us.” He softens his voice. “I know you’re not ready. I’m not either. It’s okay. No one said anything about doing it. And even if I wanted to we don’t have to do it _right now_. I’m fine with waiting.”

“I don’t know if I wanna do it at _all_ , Alex!” Jack whisper-snaps. He pauses for a moment and then heaves a heavy sigh. “I don’t know if I’ll _ever_ wanna do it. And if you want this to work you havta get that. But maybe…maybe we rushed into this. Maybe I was right, thinkin’ that it wouldn’t work.”

“Jack.” Alex’s voice catches in his throat. “No. Don’t do this. I never should’ve said anything, please, it’s fine, we don’t have to do it. Ever. I’m okay with that. Please, can we just talk about this? I needa explain, lemme explain.”

His heart is racing. He can hear the blood pounding in his ears. The rest of the room doesn’t exist anymore – all he can see is Jack and the heartbroken expression on his face and the possibility that this might be the end.

“I just need some time to think,” Jack says softly. “I need a break.”

Alex stares after him as he walks out of the room, heart pounding, eyes dampening, hands shaking, chest tightening, wondering what the fuck just happened.

…

Kellin’s puking.

He’s been throwing up on and off for the past couple days, ever since he’s been home. They said it was normal, a symptom of the concussion, but Vic isn’t so sure. He’s in so much pain. A concussion shouldn’t cause this much agony.

“You done?” He wipes Kellin’s mouth with a rag and keeps an arm around his waist.

Kellin manages a miniscule nod and collapses back against his shoulder with a sob. “It hurts so much…”

“I know it does, I know,” Vic sighs. He places the full bucket on the floor next to the bed and wraps his other arm around Kellin’s body. “S’just about time for your pills, though.”

“He threw up again?” Jordan sighs. She joins them in the room with a couple amber pill bottles in one hand and a glass of water in the other. She shakes out a pill from each bottle and hands them to Vic, along with the glass. 

“Open,” Vic murmurs. Kellin complies, and he tosses the pills in and pours water after to make them disappear. “There you go. Try ta sleep baby, okay?”

“What’s…what did the lawyer say?” Kellin ignores him and directs the question to Jordan.

“Oh sweetheart, you don’t need to worry about that right now,” Jordan replies. “Just focus on getting better.”

“No,” Kellin protests. “You know something. Tell me.”

“Babe…” Jordan shakes her head, reaching for his good hand. “It’s not good, hun. We’re gonna do everything we can, but there’s no way to spin this accident. The truth is gonna kill you.”

“Can’t we lie?” Kellin asks desperately. “Can’t we say I just got jumped?”

“That’s perjury, love,” Jordan tells him. “You can do time for that. We just gotta go in there with the truth and hope the judge sees it from our perspective. After all, the only reason you were looking for the drugs is because of this. You wouldn’t have done it if this wasn’t happening, right?”

Kellin nods.

“Alright then,” she says. “So we tell them that and hope they’re sympathetic because at this point that’s our only hope.”

…

“What the hell is _wrong_ with you?”

Jack groans, pulling the pillow over his head and squeezing his eyes shut. “Go away, Awsten.”

The bed dips. “Not until you tell me what the fuck you did to him. He’s _crying_ , Jack. I don’t get it. You guys were so good.”

“It’s not your business,” Jack grumbles. “It’s between me and Alex and you needa stay the fuck outta it.”

“Alex is my friend,” Awsten shoots back. “And I’m sure you’d rather it be me than someone telling Rian because we both know he’d have no problem ripping you the fuck apart. So you’re gonna talk to me, or I _will_ call him.”

Jack sighs. He’s not gonna wiggle his way out of this. There’s no dispelling an angry Awsten, and he _definitely_ doesn’t want to deal with Rian right now. He slides out from under the pillow and sits up, rubbing at his eyes. “I just…can’t right now, okay? It’s too much. It hurts me too. I love him. Like, more than I’ve ever loved anyone. And god, that’s…” He shakes his head. “It’s fuckin’ terrifying.”

“He loves you back,” Awsten points out. “He’s giving you everything. He loves you just as much if not more, and you’re walking away. Why? And don’t give me that bullshit about not wanting ta get hurt and not wanting ta hurt him. You two are like moms. Gonna get married someday for sure.”

“I can’t, okay?” Jack repeats. “I can’t be with him.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t have sex!” Jack shouts. “I don’t think I’ll ever be comfortable enough with my body to do it, okay? And I can’t deny him that!” He pauses. “You gotta understand. You gotta have _thought_ about it. So can you just see where I’m comin’ from and leave me the fuck alone?”

“Jack.” Awsten’s voice is soft. “I had no idea…”

Jack bites his lip and swallows hard. “Can you just go, please?”

“No,” Awsten replies. “Because I _do_ get it. There’s a reason Geoff and I are probably never gonna do it. He has PTSD and he’ll never be able to, but even if he wanted to…I think I’d be where you are. I don’t think I’d be comfortable.” His voice breaks. “But…I havta trust him. I havta trust that he’d understand and be willing ta respect that. And if he didn’t he wouldn’t be worth it anyway. Alex isn’t an idiot. He loves you. I doubt it’d be a dealbreaker to him.”

“I can’t go on knowing there’s one part of him I’ll never be able to satisfy,” Jack whispers. “I love him. In that big, scary way. And I wanna give all of myself to him. But I can’t. And if I can’t give him everything…”

“You’d rather give him nothing?” Awsten supplies. “Jack, that’s awful. For both of you. And besides, you’ve never had the conversation with him. You don’t even know if he wants it.”

“He said he did.”

“He made a _joke_ ,” Awsten deadpans. “A shitty joke that he’s regretting now. I make jokes about sex all the time. Geoff knows I don’t want it and even if I did I wouldn’t pressure him.”

“Me and Alex aren’t you and Geoff!” Jack snaps. “Just ‘cause your relationship is perfect doesn’t mean mine is too!”

Awsten stares at him. “Have you just been blind the past couple weeks or what? Look at my fuckin’ face, Jack. We’re not perfect. Far from it.” He exhales. “Geoff…he tried to break up with me after it happened. And I wouldn’t let him, ‘cause I love him and he loves me and we have something real fuckin’ special and that’s what you do in a relationship. Talk and work through your shit so you can stay together. If you let every obstacle divide you you really didn’t have anything in the first place.”

“What if he wants it?” Jack asks. “What if one day he decides he wants it and I just…can’t give it to him? I can’t live with myself, disappointing him like that.”

“Then he can get very friendly with himself in the shower,” Awsten replies. “And hell, who’s to say he even wants it? You don’t know. You haven’t talked to him about it, all you did was jump the gun and overreact and make you both feel shitty about yourselves. Here’s an idea: fuckin’ _talk_ to him. ‘Cause I can guarantee there’s some shit you don’t know either.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Don't kill me just yet. The next chapter is sort of an aftermath and a fix-it, so to speak. Alex and Jack talk, and finally, the trials begin. Can you guess who's first? I'll tell you who it isn't: neither Alex, Awsten, or Luke are going in the beginning. So that gives you Calum, Frank, and Kellin. Think on it. ;) The more comments I get, the quicker you get the chapter.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	50. Chapter 50

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry it's been a few days guys. I just finished my finals, so I've spent the last week doing nothing but studying. I haven't had any time to write.
> 
> Trigger warnings - self-harm, depression, anxiety, panic attacks, and abuse.

“Hey, um…can we talk?”

Alex looks up at him. “Haven’t you said enough?”

Jack sighs. “Please Lex, let me explain.” He holds out a hand hesitantly, extremely aware of the fact that everyone is watching the exchange. He knows Alex told; he knows most of them aren’t too happy with him right now. 

He feels sick.

Alex pushes off the couch but doesn’t take his hand. He looks at Jack expectantly and Jack coughs, clears his throat, and begins making his way back to his room, motioning for Alex to follow.

It’s only when they’re inside and the door is locked and Alex is sitting on his bed waiting for him to speak, that he realizes he actually has to _explain himself_ now. He has to say the exact words and he can’t expect Alex to be like Awsten and understand with the vaguest details. He closes his eyes, swallows against the lump in his throat, and hopes he’ll get through this without crying.

“I, um…I…” He stutters. “I’m sorry. I love you. I just…m’not comfortable with myself. Like, at all. And I couldn’t. It was too much. When you…when you said that thing…I realized you’re thinking about it and it freaked me out because I wanna give you all of me but that’s something I can’t do and I don’t wanna disappoint you and I _wanna_ give you everything but I just-”

He squeezes his eyes shut and forces himself to inhale but comes up coughing.

A pair of arms grip his shoulders and push him down until he’s sitting on the bed. He blinks. Alex’s face shimmers into focus. He watches as Alex exaggerates the up and down movement of his chest, and tries to copy it, tries to dispel the panic attack before it happens. 

“You’re okay,” Alex murmurs, standing up on his knees to bring him into a tight hug. “It’s okay. I get it.”

“Are we okay?” Jack croaks. He bites down on his lip and presses his nose into Alex’s shoulder.

Alex pulls him into a kiss and he breathes out, wrapping his arms around Alex’s neck.

“We’re okay,” Alex adds against his mouth when they break apart. “I’m sorry I said that thing. I didn’t mean it.”

“It’s okay to want it,” Jack mumbles. “Just because I’m an insecure shit doesn’t mean you havta be.”

Alex’s smile tightens, seems to freeze on his face. His hold goes stiff. “It’s not because you are. I’ve got insecurity all on my own.”

“What?” 

Alex doesn’t reply. He gets to his feet and turns around, pulling his shirt up and over his shoulders.

And Jack stares.

He stares at the marks etched into Alex’s skin, the skin between his shoulder blades pale white. The word that stares back at him makes him feel like he has ice in his veins. The numb feeling is spreading, overwhelming his entire body.

There are spaces between the letters, like each one was individually pressed into Alex’s skin. The letters are different sizes. The ‘i’ is tiny while the ‘k’ is huge. It’s not straight. The ‘m’ is lower than the ‘e’. The varying heights and sizes make it clear; this was done in a fit of anger. 

He’s gonna be sick.

He can’t _imagine_ how much it must’ve hurt. 

Alex lets his shirt back down and turns around. Jack can see tears in his eyes, dripping onto his cheeks. “My dad. After my brother died. On my birthday. S’why I hate it. And why I’ll always hate my body. I don’t think I wanna have sex either, Jack. Maybe I will, someday, but definitely not right now. It’s not just you. And there’s nothing wrong with you for it. We don’t havta do it.”

He’s smiling but he’s crying and Jack can’t take it. He stands and pulls Alex into his arms, burying his face in his shoulder and letting his own tears fall.

“It’s okay,” Alex says, voice muffled by his shirt. “It was years ago.”

“Does it still hurt?”

“Yeah.”

“Then it’s not okay. None of it is okay.”

…

“Frank’s trial is tomorrow.”

Gerard grimaces, pressing a messy kiss to Frank’s hair. He can feel Frank’s heartbeat against his arm, speeding up at Jordan’s words.

He doesn’t know how he’s going to do this.

Tomorrow isn’t about him. Tomorrow, the only thing that matters is Frank. He needs to do whatever he can to make it easier, he needs to _get Frank through_ one of the worst days of his life. Everyone else is gonna be worried about the outcome but no one’s thinking about the hell journey Frank has to go on to get there.

“You’re gonna stay,” Pete says firmly. 

“Yeah, you got nothin’ ta worry about.”

“Ray’s testifying isn’t he? You’ll be fine.”

Frank shrugs. “Can…can we not talk about it? Maybe my last night here and I don’t wanna spend it like this.”

“Frank…”

“Please,” he chokes out. “Let’s talk about how gross Alex and Jack are or how Mikey and Luke can’t keep their hands off each other long enough to lock a door.”

“Excuse you!”

“Fuck, not that again.”

“We thought we locked it!”

“And I thought I was walking into my _room_ , not the set of a porno!”

“It was one time, can we please forget about it?”

“I think I went blind.”

“I believe it.”

“I hate you.”

“I hate you more.”

Frank turns to him with a quivering lip and teary eyes. “Gee, I can’t do this.”

“Yes you can,” Gerard promises, pecking his lips. “We’re gonna win, Frankie. And you’re gonna be okay.”

“Both those things can’t happen,” Frank says thickly. “The universe doesn’t work like that.”

“The universe only has to help you win,” Gerard tells him. “Leave the rest to me.”

…

“Mr. Iero, it says here that your parents were abusive, would you agree with that?”

Frank swallows and nods. “Yeah, I would.” He’s still trembling. Taking the oath was a struggle because his hands wouldn’t stop shaking long enough. Sweat is dripping onto his forehead and his heart is racing.

They look just like he remembers them. Casual, innocent, naïve. They couldn’t possibly be hiding a dark secret like this one. He remembers going out with them and being reveled as the “perfect family” by every stranger passing. 

If only they knew what went on behind closed doors.

If only they fucking knew.

“Can you tell me why?”

Frank can’t stop looking at them. He can’t tear his eyes away. Gerard told him to look at him and not them, but he can’t help it. 

_Look at me when I’m fucking talking to you, boy._

_You tryna be smart? I’ll rip your fuckin’ eyes out, don’t try me_.

“T-They, um,” he stutters. “They hit me, a lot. Mostly my dad. My mom told him to. She said I wasn’t good enough and this was supposed ta teach me, to make me better. I don’t…I still don’t know what she wanted. I just wasn’t it. I tried so hard.”

“Your honor, I have a few pictures I’d like to submit as evidence.” Laura hands the judge a folder. “You’ll see images of Frank’s back and thighs, both of which are covered in scars from what looks like a belt. Additionally, there is an x-ray of his left wrist, which was broken by his father and never healed properly.”

“Objection! There’s no proof of that!”

Laura smirks. “Also within the file you’ll find a written testimony from neighbor Ray Toro, who says he watched the entire thing happen.”

“Overruled,” the judge agrees. “Defense?”

His parents’ lawyer straightens his tie and walks forward. “Mr. Iero, is it true you tried to commit suicide no less than two months ago?”

“Y-Yeah, but that’s-”

“Just yes will be fine,” he continues. “Your honor, my clients have been going to therapy for anger management for three years now. Mrs. Iero has also been talking about her perfectionist ways and been given coping mechanisms to handle that. I have written proof from said therapist that they are no longer a threat to their son. Clearly the home he is in now is, however. He spent a day in the hospital after ingesting a bottle of anti-depressants and taking a knife to his wrist. It is in my honest opinion that he should return to live with his parents, as they have proved they can effectively care for a child and his current guardians cannot.”

…

“They’re gonna win,” Frank chokes out. The door to the courtroom slams shut behind them and Gerard drops to his knees in front of his boyfriend. He grabs his hands and forces him to look him in the eyes. 

“They’re not,” he says firmly. “It’s not over yet.”

“I still have to cross-examine, sweetheart,” Laura adds from behind. “I have to question them, your moms, and Ray. We still have a long way to go, please don’t worry. I said I’d get you through this and I don’t intend to give up until I do.”

“It’s gonna be okay babe,” Quinn promises. “We’ll make sure it is.”

“We need to go back inside,” Laura sighs. “The judge won’t like being kept waiting. Frank, you’re done being questioned for now, so just…sit back and try to relax, okay? Go to your happy place. Your part’s done.”

…

“Mr. Toro, state your relationship to Frank, please.”

“I live across the street,” Ray says. “We grew up together.”

Frank grips onto the sleeve of Gerard’s shirt and takes hold of his arm, bringing it to his chest. He slips his hand into Gerard’s and squeezes tightly, closing his eyes. This is the last piece. After Laura questions Ray the jury will make their decision. 

“Can you describe Frank’s parents?” Laura asks. “How did they seem? Any specific mannerisms?”

“They were obsessed with bein’ perfect,” Ray answers. “Like, I never saw Frank’s mom without her makeup done and her hair combed, and she always wore these expensive business suits. She’d never let me hang out with Frank because she thought it would distract him from studying. But we snuck out and did things together anyway, and…they didn’t like it.”

“Elaborate, please.”

Ray’s voice is much lower when he speaks next. “Sometimes I didn’t go home, right after I walked Frank to his. And I heard them screaming at him. It went on and on. And he was crying but they didn’t care. They, um, they used to hit him. With a belt, I think. It sounded really painful. But the worst part was when his dad broke his wrist, definitely. They didn’t close the garage. I heard it snap. It made me sick…”

“Thank you, Mr. Toro,” Laura says. “Your honor, I rest my case. With the evidence I’ve provided and Ray’s eyewitness account, I have to say that sending Frank back to live with his parents would be a decision extremely detrimental to his mental health. They claim to have changed but the damage has been done. He’s still undergoing therapy and battling an eating disorder that stemmed from his mother’s perfectionist ways. Removing him from the group home where his recovery has been a steady climb for almost two years now would be erasing it all. I urge the jury to consider this when making their decision.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? 50 chapters, wow. I couldn't ever have imagined this when I started writing this story. The amount of support you guys have given me has been absolutely amazing. I can't thank you enough. 
> 
> Next chapter, the jury makes their decision, the aftermath, Mali-Koa arrives, and another moms scene (because you guys loved the last one), where they make a pretty important choice...can any of you guys what that could be? ;) The more comments I get, the quicker you get the chapter.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	51. Chapter 51

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning - anxiety, mentions of panic attacks, and mentions of bipolar disorder.

“Oh thank _fucking_ god.”

“I was so scared.”

“One down, five ta go.”

“Fuck don’t even say that.”

Frank turns his face into Gerard’s shoulder, squirming uncomfortably at the dampness of his shirt but squeezing tighter onto his waist. The verdict was just announced and he’s going to be allowed to stay and his head is spinning and his heart is racing and he feels like a sort of warmth has been injected into his whole body. He can’t stop crying. 

“Aw kiddo, come here, lemme give you a hug.” He’s transferred from Gerard’s arms to Quinn’s, and he immediately finds her shoulder as another sob bubbles up his throat. 

She holds on for a couple minutes and then Jordan takes a turn, thumbing tears off his face and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “You are so strong, love. And we are so proud of you. You kept it together so well today.”

“I was terrified the whole time,” Frank mumbles, looking at the floor. “Almost had a panic attack up there.”

“But you didn’t.”

“It didn’t show,” Patrick says from behind. “You looked okay; we were all like ‘what the fuck?’”

“I _wish_ I could be that okay for mine,” Alex adds. “I’m gonna have a panic attack up there, I just know it.”

“No, I am,” Awsten mutters. “I get shaky just thinkin’ about it.”

“You’re all gonna be _fine_ ,” Quinn promises. “Today was a victory. Let’s focus on that. We’ll go home, change into some pj’s, I’ll make popcorn and we’ll put on a movie, how does that sound?”

“21 Jump Street!”

“No, ew!”

“Nightmare Before Christmas!”

“You could probably quote that thing from beginning to end, jesus christ.”

“That’s the point!”

“Star Wars!”

“No!”

“Captain America!”

Frank laughs wetly, making his way back to Gerard and curling up under his arm.

This is his future.

And he’s so okay with it.

…

“They’re out.”

“All of them?” Jordan asks incredulously, reaching for another glass from the cabinet. She pours wine into it, filling it all the way to the top, and pushes it over to Quinn. “That was fast.”

“S’been a long day.” Quinn lifts her glass and they clink them together. “But a good one.”

“I didn’t wanna say anything,” Jordan sighs, taking a sip of wine. “But I was scared. I was really fuckin’ scared, Q.”

“I know.” Quinn nods. “Me too.”

“And we havta do it five more times.”

“We’ll get through it,” Quinn promises. “Today was hard but it wasn’t impossible.”

Jordan forces a smile. Usually she’s the one doing the reassuring. Quinn’s panicky, moreso than she is, and way more public with her attachment to the kids. Jordan’s tried, ever since Jack first came to them, to keep her distance, but it’s hard when you have so many kids that are all just begging for love. It’s hard not to give them everything they didn’t get from the people who were supposed to love them.

“I know.” She sets her glass on the counter and slides behind her wife, hands on Quinn’s waist and lips against the shell of her ear. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Quinn twists around and leans in to kiss her. “Listen…I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Jordan hums, grabbing one of her hands and bringing it to her lips. “What’s up?”

“How would you feel about…” Quinn trails off, shaking her head. “No, it’s stupid. We couldn’t possibly do it.”

“Hey,” Jordan lifts her chin and looks her in the eye. “Tell me what it is before you start deciding what we can and can’t do.”

“What if we…” The words tumble out in a rush, almost completely incoherent. Jordan exhales heavily. Quinn’s always done this. Get it in her head that whatever idea she has will be shot down and end up not saying anything. The old wounds from her mom are still throbbing, even twenty years later.

“Babe, c’mon,” Jordan urges. “Say it so I can _hear_ you. I’m sure it’s not that far-fetched.”

Quinn blinks. “What if we adopted all the kids?”

Jordan stops. “You…are you serious?”

“I told you it was stupid.”

“No,” Jordan says firmly. “No, it’s not. I…to be honest, I’ve been thinking about it too. I’ve wanted to for a while. I just didn’t know how you’d feel about it.”

“I’m their mama,” Quinn whispers tearfully. “They call me mama. And you mom. We’re their moms. They should be our kids by law, no one should get ta take them from us. We can stop with the group home bullshit and adopt them and we’ll just be normal people with kids and Lucas can still come in and it’ll be perfect.”

Jordan laughs. “Normal people, with fifteen kids? Are we competin’ for a tv show?”

“Shut up.” Quinn shoves her shoulder. “We could do it, right?”

Jordan shrugs. “We do it now, don’t we? The only thing is money. If we adopt we won’t get any from the government.”

“We’re not poor, Jor,” Quinn reminds her. “And my dad…he said he’d be willing…”

“You know how I feel about that.”

“They deserve it, Jordan,” Quinn mutters. “They’ve all been through hell and they deserve the reprieve of knowing they’re safe here, that they won’t be yanked out at a moment’s notice. And if money is the problem, my father has the money and he’s willing to help. So get over yourself, _please_ , because those kids, our kids, are more important than that.”

…

“Oh my god.”

Michael grips the railing tightly, staring down below at the foyer. His heart is racing and he can’t take his eyes off the scene, the _person_ standing in the entryway.

“Mikey?” 

He ignores Luke’s _what, where, who_ is that, and pushes off the banister, running so fast down the stairs he’s surprised he doesn’t trip. He grabs her, lifts her off her feet and swings her around in the air, burying his face in her shoulder and inhaling that sweet scent of her perfume that’s just so _Mali_.

“Hey kiddo.” She laughs and it’s music. Her smile is bright and her hold is warm. She leans in close to his ear with a grin. “Who’s the hot blond makin’ eyes at you?”

Michael chokes out a mix between a laugh and a cough and steps back to slide an arm around Luke’s waist. “This is Luke.” He glances at Luke. “Lukey, this is Mali-Koa, Cal’s big sister.”

“And yours.” Mali reaches forward and ruffles his hair. “These two troublemakers kept me on my toes for sure.”

“No one said you had ta play mom ta us!”

“What would’ve happened if I didn’t?”

Michael shrugs and Mali rolls her eyes. “Any chance you know where my _actual_ brother is?”

“Therapy,” he tells her. “His session’s almost over though, we can go down and wait for him.”

He turns to Luke and presses a kiss to his lips, moving both hands to cup his cheeks. “You gonna be okay? I can stay if you want.”

“M’fine.” Luke smiles at him and pecks his lips again. “My session’s after Cal’s though, so I’ll come.”

They find themselves in the basement a couple minutes later, where Calum is talking quietly to Lucas. His back is facing them. Lucas catches their eyes though, shooting them a small smile and holding one finger up.

“…and I dunno, I’m tryin’ not ta let this destroy me but it’s hard and I miss my sister and I wish she knew how bad it was and how lucky she is she got out I didn’t and now that I’m finally out, finally happy, I’m bein’ sucked back in again…”

“No you’re not.” Mali steps forward and Calum’s body goes rigid. He turns around slowly, mouth slightly open and eyes wide. “I’m so sorry I didn’t do anything earlier. I didn’t know. I should’ve known. I should’ve come home more, talked to you more…I should’ve realized you were suffering while I was enjoying life in uni and I didn’t and I’m really sorry, Cal. But I’m here now and I’m gonna testify and do anything I can to make sure you don’t go back to them.”

Michael grabs Luke’s hand and brings it to his lips as he watches Calum stagger over to Mali. She pulls him into her arms and his body goes almost completely limp, hanging onto her frame. Michael can hear him crying.

He doesn’t notice Luke’s gone stiff against him.

…

“You guys are so cute.”

Ashton crouches down to peck Calum’s cheek before sitting down on the floor in front of him and Mali. Calum’s lying against her, eyes drooping, hair messy. He stretches out a lazy hand and Ashton takes it, bringing it to his lips. 

“I love him,” he says, attention back on Mali. “In that big, scary way. He’s my world. And…what happened at your parents’ house…the way they treated him for just being who he is…that can’t happen again. He can’t go back there if they’re gonna threaten to send him to a conversion therapy camp. He can’t go back there at all. They’ve already done enough damage.”

Mali nods. “No, I know. I agree with you. I’m gonna tell the court that. I’ve heard my dad say he wanted to do it but I didn’t think he was serious. I didn’t think any of it was serious. I guess I…I underestimated how bad it was for Cal because they didn’t treat me like that.”

“They loved you,” Ashton sighs. “But they hated him.”

Mali shrugs. “We both wanted to do music. But I…I haven’t told my parents I’m majoring in it yet. They think I’m studying biology. I’m too scared to tell them I hated it and switched as soon as I could. Cal…he didn’t wanna pretend. He was into football and music and that’s all he’s ever wanted to do. And add the gay thing…I think they, my dad especially, doesn’t like that he’s not into many particularly masculine things. Well, except football. But he wants to go pro and dad doesn’t think it’ll happen.”

“So, instead of supporting his son, he tells him his dreams are shit,” Ashton mutters, letting his head flop back against the wall. “That’s so fucked up.”

“I know.” Mali nods. “I’ve always been scared of him. Uni was such a blessing. I just…didn’t realize how bad it’d be for Cal if I wasn’t there.”

“Well, there’s kinda a silver lining,” Ashton says. “He got kicked out, yeah, but he ended up here with therapy and support for his bipolar disorder and _friends_ …it’s been so good for him.”

“He’s bipolar?” Mali’s gaze drops down to Calum, who’s now completely out. “I didn’t…I had no idea…”

“Yeah,” Ashton replies. “Maybe that could’ve factored in too. Depressive periods and mania are unpredictable. He was undiagnosed and unmedicated and that definitely would’ve made him unstable as fuck.”

“Dad always yelled at him for being lazy…” Mali says slowly. “It wasn’t laziness, was it?”

“Depressive episode.” Ashton nods. “And then he’d get this burst of energy for a while but it’d be random and they’d never last. But now he’s on lithium and anti-depressants and they keep him stable. He’s okay.”

“He’s really doing well here…I’ve never seen him so happy.” Mali looks back up at him. “You really love him, don’t you?”

“He’s my family. He’s all I’ve got. When he’s not okay I’m not okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? A lighter chapter, I hope it was refreshing. Next chapter's...not so light. The next trial happens, and judging by the new character in this chapter, you can guess who's it is. Along with that, Alex reflects on how he's been feeling, Quinn and Jordan break the news to the boys, and Kellin confesses some stuff to Vic. The more comments I get, the quicker you get the chapter.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	52. Chapter 52

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings - homophobia, abuse, anxiety, panic attacks, and mentions of rape

“Is it true that you threatened to send your son to a conversion therapy camp if he didn’t “turn straight”?”

Calum gulps, tightening his grip on Ashton’s arm. Ashton leans over so his lips are against his ear and whispers, “breathe, baby. You’re okay. I’m here.”

“Yes, that’s true,” Mr. Hood replies.

Laura walks forward and slides a manila folder to the judge. “Mr. Hood, are you aware of the abusive practices that go on in those places? They use electric shock, isolation, and physical violence, amongst all kinds of other tactics to achieve their “goal”.”

Calum hears a loud whimper. He turns his head, eyes landing on Awsten, who’s gone very pale and slightly green. He’s staring straight ahead, sweat moistening his forehead.

Geoff reaches forward and taps Quinn’s shoulder. He motions to Awsten and then back to the door, and she nods. Within a couple minutes, he’s coaxed Awsten to his feet and led him out of the room.

Calum slumps back in his seat with a whimper of his own. He wishes he could leave too.

“…didn’t understand what it meant to be gay,” his dad is saying. “I didn’t realize how normal it is. I just saw him facing a life of hardship and discrimination, and I didn’t want that for my son. But now I see that he can live a life as good as I do, even if he _is_ gay.” Calum winces. “I recognize the error of my ways and have been working hard to become a better person.”

“Bullshit,” he whispers. 

“Even if he’s gay?”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Hood, while I’d first like to inform you that being homosexual is not a condition or something that prevents someone from living a normal life, it also says here that you kicked your son out. You threw him out of your house; you decided you had had enough and told him he was no longer welcome in your home. That’s illegal in this state, and the punishment is termination of parental rights. I do not see any valid reason for you to be asking for custody back when it was you who made the unilateral decision to give up custody to begin with.”

…

“Miss Hood, how long have you been away from home?”

“I started Uni last year,” Mali-Koa says. “So a little over a year and a half.”

“So you’re not home for a lot of the time, not there to witness daily life. Would you agree with that?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“So it’s safe to say that you don’t know what goes on at home, right? For all you know, Calum could be making all of it up.”

“No,” Mali-Koa says firmly. “I wasn’t home most of the time and I’ll admit that I didn’t stay as long as I possibly could for breaks, but when I _was_ home, I saw the way my parents talked to Calum and treated him. He’s not lying. He hasn’t lied about _anything_. They make all these stupid snide remarks about him being lazy and unmotivated and my dad calls him a faggot under his breath and tells him his dreams are stupid, and honestly? It’s one of the most toxic and hostile environments I’ve ever been in. That’s _why_ I’m not home more. And it’s not fair to Cal, for him to go through all this while I’m off at Uni, but I can’t change the past. I was a shit sister and I can’t change that. But now I’m back and it’s time for me to make it right so I _am_ going to change his future.” She pauses, starting to smile. “Your honor, I’ve never seen my brother happier and more peaceful than he is in that group home. He has friends. He has a boyfriend. He has a _family_. They love him and care about him and treat him so much better than my parents ever have. He’s spent so long being sad and miserable and now that he finally knows what true happiness feels like…you can’t take that away from him. Please.”

…

“Thank you so much.”

He pulls Laura into a messy hug, burying his face in her shoulder. She laughs lightly and rubs his back. He’s most definitely getting sweat all over her but in this moment he gives no fucks because this is going down in history as one of the best days of his life and it’s all thanks to her.

“You’re welcome hun,” she says. “I’m just glad it went well. I’m glad the jury’s being rational about these things.”

“Are they usually not?”

She sighs. “Sometimes. These juries are completely random, made up of people with little to no law experience. They’re just regular people who got called in on a particular day to do duty. So often times it depends on what side of the bed they woke up on or what’s going on in their life that day. There’s a lot of ways it can go wrong. I’m glad it hasn’t.”

“Two down, four ta go!” 

“Stop saying that!”

“C’mon, have some hope, will ya?”

“I’ll have hope when m’not worried about how much longer I have _here_.”

“Alright,” Jordan mutters. “All of you. Cars. Now. We’ve got a movie night ta get to.”

Calum slips his hand into Ashton’s and rests his head on his shoulder, closing his eyes. 

They’re going home to put on pajamas and curl up in front of the TV and watch some stupid comedy with corny jokes and predictable punch lines and they’ll all probably groan and throw popcorn at the TV but it won’t matter because what happened today confirms that they’ll be able to do that for a lot more nights and he’ll be around for all of them.

That’s all he needs.

…

Days with sleep have become few and far between.

He doesn’t even try anymore.

He lays awake, staring at the ceiling and listening to Jack’s steady breathing, fully aware of the nightmares looming over him like bullies on the playground clutching his father’s wrath in sharp claws. They’re growing, towering over him with their elongated bodies and haunting voices, while he seems to shrink down further and further until he’s curled in fetal position trying to cover his head, begging for mercy.

The last time the nightmares were this bad was directly after a beating, the night after when he would try to sleep even though it never came because everything hurt too much, when he would eventually drag his aching body out of bed and stumble across the street to Rian’s house and crawl in next to him and use the warmth to convince himself sleep was safe.

And it worked. It really worked. Face pressed into Rian’s chest, arms around his waist, he drifted off but maybe that wasn’t the best thing because the nightmares followed him like a pack of demons snarling menacingly, grabbing at him with their talons and pulling him back in, surrounding. 

He wakes up breathless.

It’s the same every time, panting, chest heaving, eyes stinging. He holds a hand in front of his face and watches his fingers shake violently, watches the anxiety take control of his body like a demented puppeteer. 

It’s become a routine and turned him into a zombie, one of the actual walking dead. He’s walking and talking and existing, wading through life in the company of a fog of dizziness that covers everything. It’s a lens of murkiness settling over his vision that he can’t figure out how to get rid of.

And Jack…Jack’s amazing. He’s sweet and kind and worries too much and kisses him a lot and keeps reminding him he’s loved and safe and this is his _home_ and the first few times it was really nice, but the mantra’s played on repeat so many times the meaning is starting to get lost. It was what he needed but now it’s a reminder of the unknown, a record playing Jack’s fears over and over because he doesn’t _know_ what’s going to happen. He doesn’t have any real reassurance so he’s reduced to sweet nothings full of lies. Authenticity doesn’t exist because if Jack were to say what was really on his mind it would be jagged. Fragmented. Incomplete.

Because that’s all this is. 

Incomplete.

…

“So…what do you guys think?”

“Adopt us? For real?”

“What would it change?”

“What would we havta do?”

Jordan smiles. “It wouldn’t change anything, really. You’d all still live here and Lucas would still come in. Nothing would be different.”

“The only thing this does is give us a piece of paper saying you are legally ours, forever,” Quinn continues. “No one can take you out of this house. Your parents can never come back and file for custody. You’d be ours.”

“The group home would kinda…no longer be a group home, it’d just be us, moms, with fifteen teenagers.”

“We could be on TV!”

“15 Kids and Counting?”

“Oh please god no.”

“Anyway,” Jordan says. “You guys just have to give us the okay, and we can get the paperwork started.”

“Nothing is changing,” Quinn reminds them. “This is just so you guys never have to go through the pain and fear of wondering whether you could be randomly taken out of this house.”

“I’m in.”

“Me too.”

One by one, they all start to nod and smile. When it rolls around to Jack, he bites his lip, shaking his head. His eyes are shiny with tears. “No…no you can’t. It’s too much. There’s too many of us. You can’t. Please don’t.”

He jumps up and runs out of the room before anyone can get in a word of protest.

…

“Are you _sure_ you’re gonna be okay? We can try and push it back, maybe if we explain the situation…”

Vic brushes a lock of Kellin’s hair behind his ear and presses a kiss to the corner of his eye. The bruises on his face are just starting to heal, yellowing and browning. It’s so much better than the angry red color. The swelling is gone too. They can finally kiss without him worrying he’s hurting Kellin.

Kellin props himself up onto his elbows with a grimace and puckers his lips for a kiss. Vic leaves his face just a couple inches above Kellin’s when they break away, touching their noses together. 

“I gotta do this, Vic,” Kellin says. “I…I can’t sleep another night knowing I might be taken outta here. And besides, I can’t get adopted until it’s over.”

“I know. I just…I love you,” Vic whispers. “I hate seein’ you hurtin’. Wish I could take it for you.”

“The trial or the broken ribs?” Kellin grunts. “Ah fuck, nope, gotta lay down.”

His elbow collapses underneath him and his body falls the couple inches. It happens quickly but the look on his face says that two seconds was pure agony. 

“You okay?” Vic straddles Kellin’s hips and cups his cheek. “This isn’t hurting you right?”

“You’re fine,” Kellin breathes. “My ribs…not so much. Fuck. This.”

Vic sighs. “Why were you goin’ ta get drugs anyway, Kells? I know the trial’s fuckin’ you up, but…why wouldn’t you talk to me? Why wouldn’t you let me help you?”

Kellin shrugs with another wince. “I…talkin’ ‘bout it would’ve made me feel worse. I didn’t wanna keep reliving it. I wanted to forget. I didn’t wanna feel it anymore.”

His heart drops. He feels it sink into his chest and hit the switch that sends nausea swirling up his throat. The realization is paralyzing because he _knows_. He knows what that’s like and how devastating the feeling is. Everything’s falling apart and you have no place to turn and drugs become the only thing keeping you from going off the deep end. 

“You never…you’ve never told me what happened ta you,” Vic whispers when he finds his voice. “You always say it was bad but you never say _why_.”

Kellin goes rigid under him. “Please, Vic. Please don’t.”

“No,” Vic mutters. He leans down and pecks Kellin’s lips. “I _love_ you. I dunno what you think that means but to me it means being there for you no matter what, _helping_ you deal with your shit because it isn’t just yours anymore. You’re not alone anymore.” He pauses, swallowing hard. “I have a relationship with my brother because you went and talked to Jaime and got the story back to him. You did that. I trusted you and you helped and things are better now. Why won’t you let me do that for you?”

“You can’t, Vic,” Kellin mumbles. “No one can help me.”

“Try me.”

“My stepdad raped me,” Kellin grounds out. “And my mom almost did too. My fucking _mom_. Because she was too fuckin’ drunk and high to know what she was even _doing_. And I ran away and it sucked for a long time but I got through it and now I’m here and just when I think I’m okay they want me _back_ ,” his voice breaks. “And I can’t go back there Vic. I can’t. So the only thing you can do for me is make _sure_ it doesn’t happen because if things don’t go well tomorrow I’m _going_ to kill myself and that’s a promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thoughts? I wanted to give you guys a little Christmas present as a thank you for all the support on this story. I'm sorry it's so late in the day; I was with family and doing things, Christmas stuff, y'know. And I'm also sorry it wasn't a very happy chapter, lol. You know me; it gets worse before it gets better. 
> 
> Next chapter, Quinn talks to Jack, another trial (of who's left...guesses are welcome :P), and you finally get the insight on what was going on with Luke last chapter. The more comments I get, the quicker you get the chapter.
> 
> Thanks for reading guys, and for those of you who celebrate, I hope you had a really nice Christmas. Happy holidays, everyone, and if you don't celebrate anything this time of year, I hope you had a good day. :)


	53. Chapter 53

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings - anxiety, panic attacks, mentions of rape, mentions of drug abuse, and eating disorders.
> 
> There's gonna be an important author's note at the bottom, please read!
> 
> Enjoy.

“Hey babe, can we talk?”

“Go away.” Jack’s voice is choked and his head is hidden under a pillow. “Don’t wanna talk.”

“Okay, I’ll talk then,” Quinn says, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “I’ll talk and you listen, how’s that sound?”

Jack makes an incoherent noise. “Sweetheart…I know you’ve been in and out of here so many times in the past few years. And we just managed to convince the state to let you stay until you age out. But think about it. Wouldn’t it be nice to…not have to worry about any of that? You’d be ours, love. Forever.”

“What happens when I wanna move out?” Jack growls, taking the pillow off his face and sitting up to glare at her. “What happens when we _all_ wanna move out and on with our lives? It’s not one kid you havta say goodbye to, it’s fifteen! And then you’ll be all alone and I don’t…I don’t wanna do that to you.”

“You’d be doing it anyway, in a year and a half.” She shoots him a tearful smile. “And you’d be required to leave. You wouldn’t have a choice. This way, if you wanna stay – not sayin’ you have to – but if you’re not ready in a year and a half, you don’t have to be. There’s no pressure.”

“It’s too much.” Jack’s voice breaks. “I hear you, talkin’ about how expensive it is and how you won’t have enough without the government’s money. They won’t pay you if you adopt us.”

Quinn chuckles. “Kiddo…I’m not sure you know about this, but…my dad is the CEO of a massive corporation. He has a ton of money, way more than he knows what to do with. He’s been offering to help for _years_ , but your stubborn mom’s been lettin’ her pride get in the way. I told her it’s not worth it anymore. Nothing is worth havin’ you guys live in fear. So she’d havta put on her big girl pants and accept the help. And she agreed and we talked to my dad and he’s more than willing to do it. So all that’s left is you, babe. What’s scarin’ you so bad?”

Jack chokes out a sob and then covers his face with his hands, more tears coming. Quinn sighs, scooting forward to pull him into her arms. He resists at first, slapping against her, but eventually settles, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

“What’s going on with you my love,” Quinn murmurs, rubbing his back. “Talk to me. Let me help you.”

“My whole life no one’s wanted me,” Jack whispers. “They want me at first but once they have me they realize that they actually didn’t. I’m not…I’m not worth it. And I don’t- I can’t- you can’t do that. Because I don’t know what to do I don’t know where to go I don’t want everything to be set in stone and then it not work out nothing works out for me I don’t-”

“Hey,” Quinn says gently, lifting his head up. She leans in and wipes at the tears on his cheeks. “Listen to me. _Nothing is changing_. You are doing exactly the same as you have been for almost a year. The only thing that’ll be different is mom and I will have a document telling people that no one can take you away from us. That you’re our child. Isn’t that…isn’t that what you’ve always wanted? A home and a family and the security of knowing you’re not going anywhere?”

Jack sobs in response, and she sighs, running a hand through his hair. 

She wishes he would talk more. He’s so used to holding everything in, wrapping his feelings up into a little box and hiding it in a vault inside his chest that’s forced open every time he has a breakdown. He operates through a series of breakdowns stemming from the ridiculous standards he sets for himself and she’s never understood why.

He holds himself to perfection and never meets it because who the fuck is perfect all the time but he believes he has to be because he’s worthless if he’s not and it’s the most unbelievably frustrating thing she’s ever experienced.

She knows where it comes from and why it exists and how it got engrained in him in the first place. It’s that damn eating disorder’s fault, one of the many joys of anorexia and how it manifests itself. It’s not a diet and not something people can control and _definitely_ not something with an off switch. The people who say those things for sure have never experienced or watched someone they loved go through it. 

Anorexia is deadly. It’s too many ‘I’m not hungrys’ and ‘I already ates’, it’s gym sessions and water bottles and sit ups and baggy clothes and sunken-in cheeks and sallow skin and thinning hair. It’s watching someone go from human to skeleton in the span of _months_. 

She remembers when he was younger, bright and happy and vibrant and free. He loved so much, opened his heart to everything, gave himself to the world. And it spit in his face, burned out a light so beautiful, and he turned dark and sad and desaturated and closed off.

And her whole world was falling apart.

Literally.

…

“Mr. Bostwick, would you care to tell the jury what your injuries are?”

Kellin coughs and clears his throat. “Um, sure. Three broken ribs, concussion, shattered right wrist, and dislocated left knee. But my knee’s healed and my concussion’s basically gone.”

“Is it true that you sustained these injuries after being beat up by a drug dealer you were looking to buy from?”

He swallows. The lump in his throat throbs. “Yeah, but-”

“And isn’t the purpose of the group home to _keep_ you from doing things that are harmful to your recovery?”

“Yes, and-”

“Your honor, I don’t even think the defense has a case. It’s clear that this group home is ineffective and the kids are poorly supervised. Mr. Bostwick would be much safer back in his old home with his parents.”

“No!” Kellin shouts. The lawyer opens his mouth in protest but Kellin ignores him and plows on. “ _I_ snuck out! I did that! I told them I was goin’ to the park and went there instead, and you wanna know why? Because of this fuckin’ trial! Because I can’t go back there, because my “parents” are the woman who gave birth to me and her drug dealer husband who force fed me something and raped me while I was unconscious! And my mother, my fuckin’ mother…” Tears are running down his cheeks and he feels sort of hot, like someone’s turned the room into a sauna. “The last memory I have of her is being forced against the wall while she unzipped my jeans and promised I’d like it. So yeah, I went to buy drugs. And honestly? I still want them! I want every drug in existence because it would be so much fuckin’ better than goin’ back to that house for one fucking second.”

…

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Kellin shifts the icepack lower on his abdomen with a wince. “Yeah. That…it was a lot. Didn’t know it’d be that hard. M’just glad we won.”

“I didn’t think it would,” Gerard says. “Like, I legit thought you were gone.”

He bites his lip. “Me too, kinda.”

They’re all gathered in the family room and Mean Girls is playing on TV. Looking around, he has to laugh at the way they’ve managed to tangle themselves. He’s on one end of the couch, head pillowed on Vic’s chest. Geoff and Awsten are in the middle, Awsten’s legs stretched out onto Alex’s stomach, and Alex is lying against Jack on the end. Everyone else is on the floor, a mess of limbs intertwined. There’s room for all of them to have their own space but this is cozy and safe and warm and _home_.

“This is a good thing,” Jordan reminds them. “Kellin’s case was the probably the hardest. And he won. There’s so much hope for you guys.”

“It’s all going to work out,” Quinn agrees. “And then we can adopt you guys and put this mess behind us.”

“Wouldn’t we all be like…brothers?” Geoff asks. “That’d be weird and incestual wouldn’t it?”

Jordan shrugs. “You have a point. And believe me, we talked about it. But for us it’s not about you being related to us or siblings or anything. It’s just ta keep you guys here permanently. It’s gonna be just like the group home. We’re changin’ literally nothing.”

“Even the therapy sessions?”

“Goddamn.”

“Fuck that.”

“I thought you guys liked Lucas…”

“We do,” Frank mumbles. “We don’t like therapy.”

“You need it.”

“We know.”

“Can you…not adopt me until you know you can adopt Lex?” Jack speaks up. “I don’t want it to work out with me and not with him.”

“Jay, you don’t havta-”

“Shut up.”

“Jack-”

“I mean it,” Jack mutters. He leans over to whisper something into Alex’s ear, pulling him completely onto his lap. Alex drags him into a kiss, wrapping his arms around his neck.

“Aw fucking hell.”

“I didn’t ask for this.”

“They’re happy, let them be cute!”

“They’d be cuter if this didn’t happen fifty times a day.”

“True.”

“Anyway,” Geoff interrupts, glancing over at Quinn and Jordan. “Same for me, if that’s okay? I don’t wanna get adopted if Aws can’t.”

“You’re not adoptin’ me if you can’t adopt Luke,” Michael adds. “It’s both of us or neither of us.”

Kellin smiles and settles back against Vic. He reaches for his hand and brings it to his lips, closing his eyes.

He never has to worry about this ever again. 

They won.

He’s free.

…

Michael wakes up alone.

He blinks tiredly, rolling onto his side and stretching his arm out to pull Luke back against him. All he feels is the mattress, still warm with Luke’s body heat but devoid of Luke’s physical _body_.

He hears a cough followed by retching, and sits up to look past his bedroom door, out into the hall where the light is on in the bathroom. One glance over at the other side of the room tells him that Calum and Ashton are in his and Calum’s room tonight, so that could only mean one thing.

He scrambles out of bed, covers tangling in his legs and almost tripping him. He curses loudly and frees himself, proceeding to then almost fall over his own feet in his haste to get into the bathroom.

“Oh, Lukey…” He kneels behind Luke and rubs his back as he spits into the toilet and leans back. He reaches over, rips off a piece of toilet paper, and hands it to Luke with a kiss to his hair and an arm sliding around his waist. “Nervous?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Luke rasps. “All night. And then I started thinkin’, and I just…felt sick. I can’t do this, Mikey.” His voice cracks. “I can’t.”

“It’s gonna be okay,” Michael says. He turns Luke around to face him and cups both cheeks in his hands, forcing him to look him in the eye. “You’re going to be okay, Luke. I promise.”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know how today’s gonna go. My brother’s nothin’ like Mali. He didn’t even wanna come here and see me before.”

“I know that you’re gonna win,” Michael tells him. “You have a case, babe. He’s testifying. It may seem like he doesn’t care but if he really doesn’t he wouldn’t have said yes.”

“S’not enough,” Luke whispers. “They didn’t hit me. They didn’t yell at me. They just…ignored me. And I got tired and ran away. S’not like Frank or Kellin or Cal’s cases.”

“Luke…”

“Why doesn’t he love me?” Luke cries. “Why didn’t they? They were supposed ta love me, what happened? Why don’t they care? Why didn’t I matter to them? I just…I don’t understand, Mikey. And m’finally happy and everything’s startin’ ta get better and I was done but they’re pulling me back and I can’t do it I can’t breathe I.” He cuts himself off with a cough. He’s shaking.

“Yes you can, you _can_ breathe, c’mon, take some deep breaths with me. Everything’s okay. It’s gonna be fine, baby,” Michael repeats. He brings Luke’s head to his chest and kisses the top of it once more. “You’re gonna be okay, I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Next chapter is where things really start to go downhill. Like I said, it gets worse before it gets better. Luke's trial happens, and let's just say, the entire chapter is Luke/Muke, for a reason that may not be the best...that's all you're gonna get. The more comments I get, the quicker you get to know why. 
> 
> Now, onto a couple things: I made a playlist for this story when I first started writing it, and I thought you guys might wanna listen to it. [Here's the link.](https://open.spotify.com/user/neha.peri/playlist/1bAXsKyKYy1Q5vPn0K1AMI) Also...I know this story gets really heavy and a bit too much at times, so if any of you like the Gawsten but don't love the angst, I wrote a Christmas oneshot for them called 'home is in your eyes'. There's zero angst, it's the cutest, fluffiest thing I've written, so if you need an angst break, which you will (especially after the next chapter) go check that out!
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed


	54. Chapter 54

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings - anxiety, panic attacks, mentions of eating disorders, and mentions of abuse/neglect.

“Mr. Hemmings, is it true you ran away from your home just around three years ago?”

Luke swallows. His hands are shaking. His heart is racing. He hasn’t been able to see straight since he got on the stand. “Y-Yeah…”

“Why?”

“I, u-um…” Luke stutters. “They ignored me…”

“What do you mean?”

It’s getting harder to breathe. He’s cold, there’s ice in his skin, running through his veins. “B-Ben joined the a-army…and Jack…”

“Mr. Hemmings? Are you alright?”

He shakes his head violently, bringing his knees up to his chest and burying his face in them. He feels sick. His throat is closing up. He can’t breathe he can’t move he can’t think he can’t breathe he can’t fucking breathe.

There’s voices too many voices yelling everyone’s yelling it’s too much too much too fucking much.

“Lukey?”

The hand snakes up his arm to cradle the back of his neck. He would know that touch anywhere. He doesn’t look up. He can’t.

“Hey baby, it’s okay. You’re okay,” Michael promises softly. “Can you stand up for me? We’re gonna get outta here, it’s gonna be okay, everything’s gonna be okay.”

He lets Michael help him to his feet and once he’s out of his seat and standing next to Michael he turns his face into Michael’s shoulder with both arms around his waist, and cries.

“It’s okay,” Michael keeps repeating, sliding an arm around his waist. He forces his feet to move in time with Michael’s and when he looks up again, they’re outside the courtroom in the hallway, standing right in front of a bench. Michael coaxes him to sit down and kneels in front of him, using his thumb to wipe tears from his cheeks.

“Oh Luke, sweetheart.”

“Love, are you okay?”

He reaches for Michael’s hand and tugs. Michael takes the hint, thankfully, and slides onto the bench next to him. He wraps an arm around Luke and pulls him close. Luke lets his head flop onto Michael’s shoulder and looks up at Jordan and Quinn tearfully.

“I, I’m sorry…”

“No sweetheart.” Jordan kneels down and puts a hand on his shoulder. “ _We’re_ sorry. This was too much for you.”

“What’s…I can’t…I don’t…”

“Does he have to go back up there?” Michael translates. He’s begun to rub circles on Luke’s back, hand slipped under his shirt, and Luke leans into the touch, closing his eyes.

“No.” That’s a new voice. Laura. “No, he doesn’t. I just talked to the judge and jury and explained the situation, and they said that Jack’s testimony should suffice. Luke, hun, you alright?”

“He had a panic attack,” Michael answers for him. “He’ll be okay. He just needs ta rest.”

…

“Would you say your parents were neglectful? Ignorant, as Luke described, of him?”

Jack shrugs. “I mean…they were great with Ben and me. They bought me my first car. My dad gave me his credit card right before prom. And they let me throw this huge party for graduation. And Ben…he didn’t want all that and they were okay with it. But Luke…I dunno. He was really quiet. He didn’t say anything to anyone. They never knew what he wanted.”

“Could you elaborate?”

“He just…didn’t wanna talk. To anyone. Ever. He stayed in his room all day. Played his guitar. It was weird. I think our parents just…got tired of it. If he wasn’t gonna talk to them they weren’t gonna talk to him either.”

“Have your parents ever shown signs of blatant neglect?”

Jack considers this. “I don’t think so. I mean, they tried. But Luke wasn’t into it so they stopped.”

“No further questions, your honor.”

…

“After reviewing the evidence presented and the testimonies given, it is our unanimous decision that Mr. Hemmings would benefit from going back to live with his parents. We do not see a reason for him to have run away in the first place and sincerely believe that this decision will be beneficial for both parties.”

…

“He’s not going.”

“Michael-”

“No!” Michael snaps. “He’s not going fucking _anywhere_ , okay? That was bullshit! His brother’s fucking testimony was crap!”

“Mikey, please-”

“What about the nights he didn’t eat because they didn’t let him? Or when they used all the hot water and left him nothing? Or when they’d just randomly fucking _take off_ without even _telling_ him? No signs of neglect, fucking bull! He had every reason to run away and now he has to go back and it will destroy him I’m telling you it’ll fucking _destroy him_!” Michael rants. His chest is heaving. His eyes are wild. There are tears streaking down his cheeks and his lip is quivering.

“Sweetheart, I know,” Jordan sighs. “Believe me. We agree with you. But that was the decision. And we’re gonna fight like hell to get it appealed, to prove to the court that Luke’s parents are neglectful, but at this moment, there’s nothing we can do. I’m so sorry, hun.”

“What’s he gonna do?” Michael chokes out. His voice is thick with tears. “He had a panic attack up there he was so scared you _saw_ it. And you _know_ how he was when he got here what the fuck is he gonna do he’s gonna be all alone!”

“Babe, you gotta calm down.” Jordan grabs his shoulders and forces him to look her in the eye. “I know you’re upset. I know you’re scared. Trust me, I am too. But right now, you need to go in there and give that boy a hug and promise him things will be okay even if you don’t believe it because it’s his last night here and whatever you’re feeling, that fear, that sadness, that anxiety…he’s feeling it times a hundred. So you can have your feelings later. He needs you right now.”

…

“This isn’t fucking fair.”

“I mean, what the fuck?”

“How the _hell_ did they win?”

“I just…I don’t get it.”

“None of us does.” 

Quinn walks back into the room with her phone in hand. “They’re both in for the night. Cal, can you sleep in Ashton and Alex’s room tonight?”

Calum shrugs. “I do that every night. Lex always goes to Jack’s room anyway.”

“What can we do?” Gerard asks. “Like, is this the end? Can we get him back? What the hell do we do?”

Jordan sighs. “Laura said we can appeal, or at least try to appeal. But…we need Luke to be able to speak in front of everyone. We need him to tell them what he experienced, because there’s no one who knows it better than him. Witnesses and evidence can only do so much.”

“How soon can it happen?”

“We can start the process right now,” Jordan says. 

“Fuck, I just…” Jack mutters. “He doesn’t deserve this. His parents…his fuckin’ asshole of a brother has no idea how bad they were. No one knows. He didn’t talk to people because he was literally too fucking scared to open his mouth and they wanna throw that in his face? It’s such fucking bullshit.”

“He’ll be back with us soon,” Quinn promises. “If he explains his side of the story to the judge things should work out.”

“You said that last time.”

“We couldn’t control this,” Jordan says heavily. “We did everything we could. And now we’re gonna try anything to get him back. We’ll fix this.”

…

“I love you so much, okay? This doesn’t change anything between us. _Anything_. You havta go but we’ll get you back as soon as we fucking can, okay? You’re not gonna stay there your home is here you belong here with me and the other boys it’s gonna be okay I promise.”

“Can you just…hold me?” Luke mumbles. “This is…the last night you’re gonna get to…”

He forces himself to swallow back the tears. He doesn’t want to cry anymore. The waterworks have been pouring ever since they got the news and now there’s finally a lull and all he wants to do is curl up with Michael in bed and let himself descend fully into his safe place and forget about his life going to literal hell tomorrow.

“Oh, Lukey…” In one motion, Michael lifts him off the ground and into his arms, shifting so he’s carrying him bridal style. Luke wraps his arms around Michael’s neck and bites his lip as Michael walks over to his bed.

They curl close. He tucks his head under Michael’s chin and wraps his arms around his waist and breathes in as hard as he can, trying to commit every inch of Michael to memory. Michael’s body is a roadmap that he’s explored so many times but in this moment, it feels like new, like they’re strangers feeling each other up for the first time. Luke wants to learn him again. Every scar, every mark, every part of Michael that makes him _Michael_ …he wants to memorize them and internalize them so he can imagine a realistic version of Michael holding him on the nights he feels most alone.

“I love you, y’know?” Michael murmurs, kissing the top of his head. “You make me so happy. I love you so much. I don’t know what my life would be like without you.” 

“I’d be dead without you,” Luke confesses shakily. He pulls his head up to look Michael in the eye and reaches out to touch his cheek. “You saved me, Mikey. I didn’t think my life was worth anything. I didn’t think _I_ was worth anything. But you did. And you helped me think it too. And now…” He trails off. A sob bubbles up his throat and he doesn’t stop it. He tucks his head back until Michael’s chin and buries his face in his shirt, dampening the cloth.

“And now you’re still gonna think it,” Michael says firmly. “Because your life _is_ worth something. _You_ are worth something. You’re worth so much, baby. Don’t let what they think change that.”

“They were supposed ta love me,” Luke says raggedly. “I don’t…I don’t know why…what did Jack and Ben have that I didn’t? Why didn’t they love me?”

“They don’t deserve you,” Michael replies. “You are so beautiful and so smart and so funny and so sweet and so sensitive and so amazing, and they don’t deserve that if they can’t see it. They don’t deserve your light if they can’t see how bright it is.”

“Again with the romance novels,” Luke laughs wetly. “Am I dating Michael Clifford or Catullus?”

“I don’t even know who that is!”

“A Roman poet who couldn’t shut up about his love life.”

“Then yeah, you’re datin’ him,” Michael mutters. “Because I love you, and I will _never_ shut up about it. Not until every person on the planet knows and then some.”

“I love you,” Luke says. “And you better not relapse after I go, you promise? You’ve been doin’ so _good_ , baby. Keep it up. M’so proud of you.”

“Luke…” Michael whines. “Don’t do that.”

“No,” Luke argues. “Don’t start purging and restricting again, you havta promise me. Call me when you feel shitty. Don’t sit on it don’t get bad again you’ve worked too hard to throw it all away ‘cause of this.”

“How do you know-”

“I know you.”

“How am I supposed ta wake up here every morning without you?” 

“The same way I gotta do it at home.”

Michael hugs him tighter and he barks out what sounds between a laugh and a cough. “We’re gonna survive this, right?”

“I hope so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you guys aren't too happy with me and I'm sorry. But, like so many of you have said in your comments, it's not realistic for all of them to stay. Anyone who knows my writing knows that I _am_ a sucker for happy endings though, so don't throw in the towel on it getting better just yet. Although...next chapter isn't much better. It _is_ one of my favorite chapters, though. Angsty Gawsten, angsty Muke (Luke leaves), and Michael and Alex have a conversation which really, in my opinion, shows you the struggles Michael, Gerard, Vic, Jack, Geoff, and Ashton have faced, as the SOs, against the struggles Luke, Frank, Kellin, Alex, Awsten, and Calum have faced. I dunno, I like it a lot. The more comments I get, the quicker you'll have it.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	55. Chapter 55

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year, guys. How 'bout we start off the new year with a new chapter, hm?
> 
> Trigger warnings - panic attacks, anxiety, mentions of eating disorders, and mentions of abuse.

Awsten has nightmares that night. 

He wakes the entire house up with his screaming, thrashing violently and crying hysterically. 

For the first time, Geoff is grateful to his own PTSD and its determination not to let him sleep because it means he can be there when Awsten wakes up mid panic-attack, there to wrap him in a hug and hold him close and promise that he’s safe. One of the hardest things about having nightmares is having them alone – Awsten always used to fall asleep and stay asleep and when he woke up with a heaving chest and tears in his eyes all he could do was nose into Awsten’s hair and hug him tighter. He’s usually the big spoon, which sucks when he has nightmares but is really coming in handy now. 

Awsten is exhausted. He’s pale skin and bags under his eyes and stumbling when he walks. He’s sluggish and groggy and lethargic and always somewhere else, buried deep in his mind like a scared child holding a butter knife out to defend himself against a gunman. 

He feels so fragile in Geoff’s arms. His sweatshirts hang off his skeletal frame and his knees fold into his chest so he becomes even more delicate, like a precious flower Geoff’s sure he’s going to crush. He’s handling expensive china, precious cargo, trying not to squeeze too hard or grip too strong because he’s already bruised Awsten one too many times.

“Did _anyone_ sleep last night?”

“Hell no.”

“I didn’t.”

“I couldn’t.”

“Sorry,” Awsten whispers. His voice trembles. He’s already shaking in Geoff’s arms, heart starting to speed up. Geoff can feel it. “I’m sorry.”

“No no no, don’t do that,” Ashton says quickly. “It’s not your fault.”

“You’re okay,” Geoff whispers against the shell of Awsten’s ear. “You don’t havta apologize. Breathe. I gotcha.” 

Awsten hiccups and turns to hide his face in Geoff’s chest. Geoff exhales heavily and starts to rub his back, keeping his lips against Awsten’s ear. Awsten’s anxiety has always been bad but the trial has heightened it by so much. He’s jumpy and antsy and skittish and nervous and he keeps shaking and his little heart keeps racing and Geoff feels it, he feels all of it when he has Awsten in his arms and he’s trying to calm him down.

“We couldn’t,” Luke mumbles. “And I don’t think I’m gonna anytime soon. And you got nothin’ ta do with it.”

“Luke-”

“It’s okay.” Luke ducks his head slightly and turns it into Michael’s shoulder. “’ve got all the time in the world ta sleep there. I wanted to enjoy my last night with Mikey.”

“You act like you’re breaking up or somethin’, jesus christ.”

“That’s what it feels like.” Michael glares at Vic. “How would you feel if you didn’t get ta see Kellin every day? Fall asleep with him every night? Just fuckin’ _exist_ with him next to you?”

“He’s gotta point,” Jack says. “Like, even though Lex and I haven’t been dating for long, it feels _weird_ if he’s not next ta me. Like he’s part of my body or somethin’.”

“That is the creepiest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Jack shrugs. “You say that like you’re ever anywhere without Patrick attached to your side.”

“It sucks,” Brendon speaks up. “As the only one whose boyfriend _doesn’t_ live here, it really fucking sucks because you see everyone all cuddly and lovey dovey and it’s shitty. But I go to Ryan’s a lot and he comes here and moms sometimes let us stay the night at each other’s and we make it work. And I’m always facetiming him because I can’t go a day without seeing his stupid face.”

“And _that_ is why you have your own room.”

“But what if they don’t let him come visit?” Awsten asks. “They might not be okay with the whole gay thing. I, um, if things don’t go well with me my parents are gonna cut Geoff off completely.” His voice breaks as he finishes and Geoff winces. He tightens his hold and kisses Awsten’s head. 

“I’m right here, baby. I’m here. Everything’s okay,” he whispers. He knows Awsten doesn’t believe it. He knows he won’t until the judge makes the decision and he’s permanently in this house. He knows Awsten’s living in a world of doubt and fear and anxiety and panic. He knows it’s hell and he knows it’s terrifying but what he doesn’t know is what to do. There’s nothing he can say that’ll make it any easier. The sweet nothings and forehead kisses and constant cuddles are all he knows how to do and everyone says they’re enough but it doesn’t change the fact that Awsten is in the worst pain he’s ever been in and none of what he’s doing is contributing to it going away.

“I don’t think they’d do that.”

“I hope they wouldn’t.”

“Yeah your parents aren’t homophobic are they?” 

Luke shakes his head. “I don’t…I’m not sure. They’ve never said anything about it.”

“You had a panic attack up there and Mikey was all over you and it didn’t look like it bothered ‘em.”

“Yeah they’re real open-minded,” Luke mutters. “Except when it comes ta givin’ a shit about their son.”

“You’re gonna come back to us.”

“You don’t know that.”

“It’s gonna happen, just wait.”

“I’ll believe you when it does.” 

…

“We are _going to_ get you back sweetheart, we promise.” Luke forces a smile and nods, wrapping his arms around Quinn’s neck. He hugs Jordan next, and then proceeds down the line, with Ashton, Alex, Gerard, Frank, Pete, Patrick, Brendon, Awsten, Geoff, Calum, Kellin, and Vic.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Jack promises, as he steps forward to hug him. The connection he’s formed with Jack is different. Unique. They were roommates for so long even though Luke slept mainly in Michael and Calum’s room. When he first got to the group home, he would stay up late night after night talking to Jack, spilling life stories and exchanging past traumas. This Jack was so much better than his actual Jack. This Jack was everything a brother should be. “Text me. Don’t do this alone.”

He wishes he could switch the two.

This is _his_ Jack. Not the one who gives more of a shit about his fiancé and new life. This is his Jack, the one who let him climb into bed with him every night and held him when he had panic attacks and spoke for him in group before he was comfortable speaking for himself. This is his Jack, the one who was struggling but didn’t show it, tried so hard to be okay even when he wasn’t, worked himself to death if it meant Luke was happy that night.

This is _his_ Jack.

He swallows hard, pulls away from Jack, and turns to the only person left.

How the fuck is he supposed to say goodbye to Michael?

“Call me as soon as you get there, okay?”

“I will,” Luke chokes out. Tears are running down his cheeks and clinging to his neck. He reaches forward and wraps his arms around Michael’s neck once more, burying his face in his shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Michael echoes. He pushes Luke away slightly and puckers his lips. Luke kisses him softly, keeping his arms around Michael’s neck. Michael’s hands travel down to his waist and he squeezes. Luke smiles against Michael’s mouth, pressing their foreheads together when they pull away.

He lets it linger for a minute, closes his eyes and drinks in Michael’s smell and Michael’s body and Michael’s touch and everything just _Michael_. He lets it surround him, overwhelm him, encapsulate him, because who the fuck knows when it ever will again.

And then he steps back, forces a smile, and turns away, toward a hell he never thought he would have to revisit.

…

Michael can’t sleep.

And it’s not like he hasn’t tried, it’s not like he hasn’t forced his eyes shut and thrown his phone across the room and positioned himself upside down and backwards and inside out but nothing is fucking working. The clock on his nightstand says 2:41 am and he’s still not asleep and he wants to cry it’s so fucking annoying he’s tired he has the opportunity to sleep but he can’t fucking drift off.

This is the time he’d usually go find Calum or Jack and try to crawl in with one of them but both of them have boyfriends and he’s sure Ashton and Alex wouldn’t be too terribly impressed with the idea. Calum and Ashton are sleeping in Ashton’s room and it’s quiet and pitch black and cold and he fucking misses Luke. 

It hasn’t even been twelve hours and he misses him. He misses his laugh and his smell and feeling their bodies against each other. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s gone this long without him. It’s foreign. Unfamiliar. There’s a gap by his side and too much space in his bed and Luke’s scent is slowly starting to fade from the room it’s all happening so fast.

It feels wrong everything feels wrong Luke should be here choking him with his tufts of hair and tossing and turning and fucking grinning in his sleep like the fucking weird asshole he is. 

Luke should be here.

It’s not the same without him.

Nothing’s the same without him.

Michael bites his lip and sits up. He swings his legs around the side of the bed and stands, grabbing his phone off the floor as he leaves the room. He makes his way downstairs and stops when he sees the light on in the kitchen.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Alex asks, when he walks into the kitchen. He’s sitting at the table with a mug in his hands. His hair is messy and he’s wearing a blue t-shirt and boxers.

“Nah. You?”

Alex shrugs. “I’d rather not sleep than have nightmares.” He motions over his shoulder to the stove. “There’s hot cocoa if you want it.”

“Thanks.” Michael steps up to the stove and reaches over to grab a mug from the cabinet next to it. He fills it and then turns, leaning against the stove and bringing the cup to his lips. “I suck at sleepin’ alone.”

“Yeah…” Alex shakes his head. “I’m really sorry. Wish there was somethin’ I could do.”

“Are you ready?” Michael asks. “Y’know, for yours?”

Alex rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I’m down here while my boyfriend’s in bed alone because I enjoy not sleeping at 3 in the morning.”

“Awsten’s before you isn’t he?” Michael lifts the mug once more, staring down into the steaming liquid and letting it warm his face. “Next week?”

“Yeah,” Alex says. “M’so worried about him.”

“Me too. Nightmares suck.”

“ _PTSD_ sucks,” Alex corrects. “It’s usually not so bad for me but the trial is just…I don’t wanna see them again. I can’t.”

“You should go back upstairs,” Michael advises. “Tell Jack. Let him help you.”

“S’not that easy.” Alex smiles, looking down at his mug. “He can’t help with this. No one can. He can tell me he loves me and promise it’ll be okay but he doesn’t know that. He doesn’t know anything. He’s just as scared as I am and I don’t wanna go back up there and listen to him make up bullshit. It’s sweet but I just…can’t deal with it anymore.”

“He’s trying his best,” Michael says. “We all are. We don’t know what ta say but we havta say something, be there, have the answers…we’re scared too but we’re trying.”

“No, I know,” Alex replies. “And Jack’s amazing for even tryna make me feel better about everything, but…shit with my parents is fucked up and messy and he can’t make that better. He can’t make it go away. I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s everywhere, all the time, like I can leave a plate on the table or my dishes in the sink or change the channel here without worrying about it but now everything’s different because if I go back there I’m not just going back to my parents, I’m going back to skittering around the house like an idiot not knowing what part of my existence is gonna piss them off that day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Next chapter starts off with a Ryden scene, followed by Luke back in his house, confronting his parents, a Jalex scene, and Awsten has one thing he's been keeping from Jordan and Quinn. Hint: you guys know what it is. If you've been paying attention from the beginning, you know what he hasn't told them. The more comments I get, the quicker you get the chapter.
> 
> Thanks for reading. I hope you guys had a happy new year. 2017 was a pretty bad year for me, but I know 2018 will be better. I'm excited for what's to come in terms of my writing, and I hope you guys are too. (Hint: there _might_ be a new Gawsten fic posted tonight) For those of you reading worst, that's going to be updated. I also posted an angsty Gawsten oneshot yesterday, if you're into that.


	56. Chapter 56

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings - anxiety, panic attacks, depression, mentions of neglect, PTSD, abuse, and homophobia

“I died.”

Brendon’s heart starts to beat faster. Ryan feels it against his chest. He doesn’t move. His body is starting to go rigid. 

“What?”

“Pete told me,” Ryan says. “They had to shock me back. You ran. But I flatlined, I _died_ , and that’s what’s fuckin’ you up. That’s why you can’t get past this. You watched me die and it’s still haunting you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Brendon replies. His voice is high. Shaky. He sounds far away. Distant. Ryan winces. The cuts on Brendon’s arms are healing and there aren’t any new ones. He’s eating better, not great, but better. Things are looking brighter, he’s on a steady uphill climb, and Ryan is really hoping this doesn’t mark the end of that. He holds Brendon tighter and kisses his forehead longer, letting his lips linger and keeping his eyes closed.

“If I watched you die,” he says, smoothing Brendon’s hair back. “I think- no, I _know_ it would destroy me. I wouldn’t know how to _live_ , Bren. I can’t imagine how awful that must’ve been for you.” 

Brendon hiccups. His body jerks with the force. “I didn’t wanna live, Ry. The only reason I didn’t kill myself was because I didn’t want you ta wake up to it. If you woke up and got told I was dead it would ruin you and I…I couldn’t do that.”

Ryan bites his lip. He pushes Brendon off him and crawls around his body to face him. He grabs his face, cupping both cheeks and forcing Brendon to look him in the eye. “Do you have any idea how glad I am that you didn’t? And not just because I’d miss you. You have a life and you deserve to live it, love. You don’t deserve to hate it this much.”

“I just…don’t feel good, Ry,” Brendon whispers. He’s getting choked up. Tears are forming in his eyes. “I’m getting better but I don’t _feel_ better. I don’t feel anything…and I don’t wanna feel it anymore.”

There’s a knot in his throat. He swallows against it and a tear rolls down his cheek. He moves his hands from Brendon’s face to around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. Brendon buries his face in his shoulder and Ryan rests his chin on top of his head. “You wanted me to live, and now I want you to. I want you to stop surviving and start living.”

“I don’t know how to do that.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Ryan promises. “We’ll talk to Lucas and get you help. I want you to be happy, baby. You deserve to be happy.”

…

“I’ll be down for dinner.”

Luke turns and starts for the stairs. He hasn’t been back here in almost a year and it looks like nothing has changed. Same radio silence, same arrangement of furniture, same grunt as their car skidded pulling into the driveway…it’s the little things, the stupid mundane things that remind him of everything he was so excited to leave behind when he ended up at the group home. 

None of that feels real. It’s like the last three years were a dream and he’s finally awake and nothing is different everything is the same the group home was a dream a heaven that was never real it’s not real Michael isn’t real none of it is real.

“Come on Luke, at least _try_ to make this easier,” his mom says. “Haven’t you put us all through enough over the last few years? Come sit with us. Participate. You say you don’t feel like you’re a part of this family but you’re not doing anything to change that.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He whirls around, tightening his grip on the railing. His heart is racing. “You think that’s all this is? ‘Oh, poor Luke wasn’t getting enough attention so he ran away’? You left me alone! For _days_! You didn’t leave me money for food, you didn’t leave anything in the fridge, you’d pick up a pizza for dinner and finish all of it before I got one slice! It’s not that I didn’t participate, it’s that you didn’t fucking _see_ me! It’s like after Ben and Jack left you forgot you had a son until you saw I was happy and decided _that_ would be a good time to drag me back into this miserable life. I was _happy_ there! I have a boyfriend, I have friends, I have _people_ who actually give a shit about me beyond, ‘oh, is he alive? Did he wake up this morning? That’s enough’. So no, I haven’t put you through anything. You put _me_ through hell and then I got out and everything was fine and now you’re dragging me back in and I am so fucking _done_.”

He doesn’t wait for a response. He turns back around and storms up the stairs, down the hall, and into his bedroom. He leans back against the closed door with a hand on his chest, shaking. His vision is blurry. He’s seeing spots. The room is spinning around him. His hands are shaking his heart is racing it’s getting harder to breathe he can’t breathe he can’t breathe hecan’tbreathehecan’tbreathehecan’tfuckingbreathe.

“Mikey,” he gasps, dropping to his knees. He presses the hand further into his chest. A sob tears up his throat and he chokes, coughing. There’s more pain in his chest. The ache is spreading, across his torso and down to the pit of his stomach.

“I need you.”

…

“S’okay baby, just breathe. You’re okay.”

Alex shoots up in bed, hand on his chest, panting heavily. Jack keeps a tentative arm hovering mere inches from his body. He doesn’t know if it’s okay to touch him yet. He doesn’t want to get kicked in the face like Awsten did.

“H-He…burned…choked…I,” Alex gasps. Tears are rolling down his cheeks. “I don’t…I can’t…”

“It’s okay,” Jack repeats. He tightens his arm around Alex and presses a kiss to the side of his head. “Everything’s okay, Lex. You’re okay. It was just a dream. He’s not here. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

His heart is racing. He’s shaking, angry more than scared because who the _fuck_ does this. Who the fuck has the fucking heart to do this to their own _child_? His parents were complete assholes but at least he doesn’t know who they are, at least they had the decency to give him to people who wanted him when they didn’t.

“I can’t face them. I can’t do it. I can’t,” Alex gasps. “I can’t please I can’t please don’t make me please please _please_ …”

“You’re gonna be okay.” Jack promises. “Think of it this way; you face them once, this one last time, and you’ll never havta see them again. One more day of hell and you’ll be free from them forever.”

“Don’t leave.” Alex sobs on the last word, turning to bury his face in his shoulder. Jack’s heart throbs. He pulls him even closer and presses a kiss to the top of his messy hair. 

“I’m right here,” Jack tells him. “I’m not goin’ anywhere. I love you. I love you so fuckin’ much and you’re gonna be okay, I promise.”

…

“It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Awsten is shaking. His skin is clammy to touch and he’s pinching at the skin of his wrists, scratching with his nails. 

Geoff sighs. He grabs one of Awsten’s hands and intertwines their fingers, then brings their joined hands up to his lips to kiss Awsten’s knuckles. He tightens his other arm around Awsten’s torso, holding him steady on his lap. “You don’t havta do this if it’s too much, baby. I can tell them.”

“No,” Awsten insists. “I need to. You don’t…you don’t know everything.”

Geoff nods and rests his chin on Awsten’s shoulder. “You want me ta stay, right?”

“I’m not doing this without you.” Awsten reaches around with his free arm and wraps it around Geoff’s back. 

“Let’s take some deep breaths then, hm?” Awsten’s back is flush against his stomach. Geoff straightens, bringing Awsten’s body up with his own, and rests his arm against Awsten’s chest. He drops his head back down to whisper into Awsten’s ear, “c’mon baby. In and out. Move my arm. It’ll make you feel better.”

It works, at least, it seems to. Awsten’s breathing gets deeper and more regular as seconds pass. By the time Quinn and Jordan enter the room, he’s much more relaxed. His heartbeat isn’t rapid and his breathing isn’t shallow. Geoff smiles and kisses against the shell of his ear, leaving his lips there.

“Alright hun, what was it you wanted to talk to us about?”

“You’re okay,” Geoff promises, as Awsten begins to speak.

…

“I, um, I’ve never talked about this,” Awsten says. “S’not in my file ‘cause I…” His voice catches in his throat. He leans back slightly. Geoff is rubbing his back and he leans into it, feels Geoff start to press harder, and inhales deeply. “My parents sent me to a conversion therapy camp last summer.”

He swallows. His heart is racing. He’s starting to feel that sweaty, shaky feeling again, cold rushing up his body and turning his veins to ice. “S-Sorry, I just…”

“No no no sweetheart, take your time,” Quinn says. Her face is showing concern but her words are calm. “Breathe. We’re not going anywhere.”

“You’re okay,” Geoff reminds from behind. “You’re doin’ great Aws. Keep going.”

“It, um…that’s where I stopped eating.” He can’t look at him. He turns his gaze to his lap, to his and Geoff’s joined hands, and keeps it there. “At first they didn’t give us anything because they said we didn’t deserve it. And they kept saying no one would ever love us and we’d die alone and that was what we deserved, for being g-gay. They ma-made us have sex, with, with um, with girls.” His voice cracks and he swallows hard. A tear rolls down his cheek. “And then I just…I couldn’t. I was so disgusting and dirty and used up and damaged I didn’t deserve to eat why should I eat when there are normal kids out there who deserve it more.”

The words tumble out in a rush and he closes his eyes because he’s seeing spots and everything is blurry and it’s getting harder to breathe.

“Hey hey hey baby boy hey,” Geoff is saying. “You’re okay. Take a deep breath for me, alright? You’re fine my love I’m right here you’re safe I promise.”

He inhales and turns his face into Geoff’s chest. He blows the air out, warming the fabric of Geoff’s shirt and pressing his nose into it. He grasps for the warmth, hooks his fingers onto Geoff’s shirt and clenches it in his fist. Warm turns cold quickly and then he’s left pulling at the cloth, balling it up in his hands. He keeps ahold of it and turns back around.

“They told me I was wrong and I believed them they said they’d “cure” me they told me gay people were less than human and didn’t deserve to be loved and if I was gay I wouldn’t have anyone I’d die alone they beat me and shocked me and locked me in a room and starved me and I.” 

He stops.

He doesn’t breathe.

His chest hurts.

Everything is tight.

His throat is closing.

He doesn’t breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? So, um...if the last two scenes were any indication, it's gonna get heavy from here. Next chapter is Awsten's trial, and let me be blunt: it is a lot. It's heavy and very triggering because his past is something impossible to write in any other way. There obviously will be trigger warnings, but it's definitely one of, if not the darkest chapters in the story. I'm not gonna say much more because I don't want to give it away, but...it's dark. It's heavy. This is your warning. The more comments I get, the quicker, it's yours.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	57. Chapter 57

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heavy trigger warnings - eating disorders (purging scene), anxiety, panic attacks, abuse, homophobia, and mentions of self-harm. If you're sensitive to any of those, please don't read this. It's a lot. It was a lot for me to write. Keep yourselves safe. Message me on tumblr (theghostofashton) if you need a synopsis. Don't sacrifice your mental health to read my story. Please. 
> 
> For the rest of you, enjoy.

“Oh god…”

He sits back from the toilet with a gasp, pressing his fingers into his throbbing abdomen and reaching for toilet paper to wipe his mouth. Saliva is dribbling down his chin and his eyes are watering. His throat is burning from the acid. He got all the food up two rounds ago. It’s all bile and stomach acid now. 

The trial is tomorrow.

Tomorrow is the day his fate is decided upon, whether he lives or dies, thrives or survives, fakes it or makes it. Tomorrow is the day everything changes forever, good or bad. 

He hasn’t seen them in a year, not since he got home from the camp. The days immediately after are fuzzy. He remembers a sea of red. Tissues piled high in his wastebasket and going through two rolls of gauze in 48 hours. His paintbrush was silver and the paint was red and he painted such beautiful pictures.

He looks down at his arm, at the messy gashes and healing cuts. He’ll never be able to wear short sleeves out in public. There’s no untouched skin. The lines are crossed, zigzagging each other in patterns that spiral all the way up to his elbow. His fingers rein down on the marred skin, scratching, ripping, tearing, _hurting_. 

The dead skin flakes to the ground. Tiny balls of crimson are left in its wake. His teeth find the indentation in his bottom lip, sore from biting it so much. He crunches down. It stings. He inhales a heavy breath through his nose and lifts his head. 

He doesn’t recognize the person staring back at him in the mirror. He doesn’t recognize the ghostly pallor and red cheeks and tear stains and purple bruises under his eyes and bright red blood vessels in the whites and messy, sweat-soaked hair. He doesn’t recognize the absolute mess they mash together to create. 

He looks closer at his face. At his pudgy cheeks and double chin and the rolls in his neck. He stands on his knees and pushes harder into his lip. When he moves his arm the fat jiggles under it. His shirt is stretched out over his stomach. He can see the faint outline, the protruding of his belly. 

He swallows. The pit in his stomach grows. He scoots over to the toilet and shoves his fingers back down his throat. He triggers his gag reflex easily, and then he’s gripping the toilet and closing his eyes and feeling hot tears run down his cheeks as his stomach surges up through his esophagus. 

His throat is burning, a stuck in the rut kind of pain. He coughs violently, bringing a hand to his chest. 

“Oh my god…”

Liquid is still coming up his throat but now there’s ice in his veins and his heart is beating faster. He hears the footsteps coming closer and Geoff kneels behind him, slotting his legs around his hips. He begins to rub his back just as Awsten finishes vomiting. 

He freezes in place, stock-still.

He doesn’t know what to do.

His heart is racing. He feels cold and hot at the same time. His hands are shaking. He doesn’t want to turn around he can’t turn around he can’t see the look on Geoff’s face he can’t have him being disappointed in him hecan’thecan’thecan’t.

“Baby.” Geoff’s voice is soft. “Lean back. It’s okay.”

He doesn’t trust his voice. He lets his body fall backward into Geoff gingerly. Geoff wraps one arm around his chest and uses the other to reach around him and grab some toilet paper. He wipes his mouth and tosses it into the toilet, then stretches to flush.

“Are you okay?” Geoff says. He begins to rub circles into Awsten’s back with his free hand. Awsten squirms away and turns around so his knees are touching Geoff’s. 

“You can yell, y’know,” he croaks. “I know I fucked up.”

Geoff’s eyes go wide. “What kind of ass do you think I am?” 

Awsten shrugs. The past few times Geoff’s caught him mid-relapse have been a series of yelling and disappointment and guilt and anxiety. This one should be no different. He just keeps fucking up where Geoff can see and crying over the aftermath. He never learns. “You did it last time.” 

Geoff grimaces. “I _was_ an ass, then. I’m not gonna yell at you for relapsing, love. The trial’s been hell. I knew something like this would happen. I knew you weren’t okay.”

“I’m sorry.”

Geoff shakes his head. “Don’t be. Here’s what’s gonna happen, okay? We’ll get you cleaned up, bandaged up, into some new clothes, and then you and I are going to bed. It’s almost three in the morning, Aws. You needa sleep.”

Awsten blinks against the liquid in his eyes. His vision is blurry. His throat is tight. The cold feeling is slowly being replaced by one of warmth, flooding his entire body, traveling into every crevice.

He pushes himself to his feet and immediately hunches over at the waist, hand on his side. “Um…I might’ve fucked somethin’ up. It really hurts.”

Geoff says nothing. Awsten feels him slide an arm behind his back and then finds himself pressed to Geoff’s chest. Geoff has another arm under his knees, fingers curled over his leg to keep him in place. 

“Sorry,” he repeats. “I know m’heavy.”

“Awsten.” Geoff’s voice is firm. “You weigh _nothing_.”

…

“Mr. Knight, is it true that you sent your son to a conversion therapy camp, upon finding out he was gay?”

Awsten turns his face into Geoff’s shoulder and breathes out heavily. Tears are burning at the corners of his eyes. His hands are shaking. He feels like someone’s injected hot air into his veins. The flash is overwhelming. It’s spreading through his entire body. His skin is on fire. Sweat is dripping down his face. His vision is blurry.

“You’re okay.” Geoff is rubbing circles into his back. “Don’t look at him. Look at me, love, okay? Don’t look at him.”

Awsten lifts his head with a hiccup and nods. He puckers his lips for a kiss and Geoff smiles, tilting his head downward to oblige. Awsten doesn’t turn back to the front. He leaves his head there, lips brushing Geoff’s, and closes his eyes. 

…didn’t understand,” his father is saying. “In our religion, homosexuality is highly frowned upon. The Bible speaks ill of it. I didn’t want my son going to hell.”

“You do realize that the Bible also forbids wearing two different kinds of cloth at the same time and women divorcing their husbands, correct?” Laura replies.

“Objection! Relevance?”

“Sustained. This is not about preaching homosexuality, Ms. Thompson. Stick to the case.”

Laura nods. “Mr. Knight, having sent your son to one of these camps, you must’ve been aware of the practices that go on there? Isolation, electric shock, physical harm, amongst a number of other violent practices that cause severe mental and emotional trauma?”

“Y-Yes, I was,” his father replies. “And at the time, I thought it was what was needed, to cure Awsten. I had no idea that it was a disguise for something I didn’t want to admit was real, not even to myself.”

“Would you care to explain?”

“In the past year, I’ve really thought about what I’ve done and why. And through a lot of self-discovery, I’ve learned something about myself that I didn’t want to believe existed for so many years. I refused to acknowledge it and hid from it and the thought that my son could be the embodiment of it terrified me.” His voice breaks. His eyes are shiny. “I’ve realized that I am bisexual, a truth I didn’t want to admit for so long. I was so far back in the closet that when I found Awsten’s search history, found that he was gay…” He chokes out a sob. “I was scared. I had no idea. I’ve never been more sorry about anything.”

…

“Would you say you and Awsten were close?”

Otto nods immediately. “He was my best friend. We did everything together.”

“Was?” His parents’ lawyer raises an eyebrow. “Is he not anymore?”

“We, um, well, we’ve kinda drifted apart,” Otto says. “He wasn’t the same after he got back from that, that…hell.” He reaches up to adjust his beanie over his ears. “It was already kinda weird between us and he just…shut down after that. I don’t blame him though. I’ve heard what goes on in those places…”

“Why would you say it was ‘kinda weird’, between you?”

“His ex-girlfriend is my girlfriend,” Otto explains. “They broke up because he realized he was gay, and a few months later…I wasn’t tryna fall in love with her but I did. There’s no bad blood between them and there wasn’t, really, any between us. But I broke the guy code so I felt kinda awkward around him afterward.”

“So, let me see if I have this straight. You started dating Awsten’s ex-girlfriend only months after they broke up?”

“Objection! Relevance?”

“Just trying to get a sense of the witness’ history with the prosecution, your honor.”

“Sustained,” the judge says. “Whom Mr. Wood is or isn’t dating is of no concern to this case.”

The lawyer mumbles something under his breath but continues, “did you know about the Knights’ views on the LGBT+ community?”

“Yeah,” Otto replies. “It was fucked up. Awsten would come over some nights almost cryin’ because they kept talking about how horrible gay people were. He was fuckin’ terrified to come out because of it. He slept over a lot. My parents love him.”

“Mr. Wood, do you believe Mr. Knight when he says that his bigoted views stem from his own internalized homophobia?”

Otto pauses. “I, um…I don’t know. I want to. But the things he did to Awsten, the way he hurt him…I don’t think that’s just him bein’ scared to come out.”

…

“Awsten, how would you describe the conversion therapy camp you were sent to?”

“I-I, um…bad. Really bad.” Awsten’s voice is wavering tremendously. His eyes are shiny. His hands are shaking. 

Geoff winces and bites his lip. ‘You’re doing great. I love you’, he mouths. Awsten isn’t looking at him. His gaze is on his parents, red eyes and quivering lips. “Look at me, dammit,” he whisper-yells.

“He doesn’t look so good,” Michael says from his left side.

“Yeah, he looks like he’s gonna pass out,” Vic adds.

“Will you both shut the fuck up and help me?” He snaps. “Try ta get his attention. I need him to look at me.”

“…shocked me. It hurt really bad. I didn’t, I couldn’t.” Awsten pauses and buries his face in his hands. Geoff hears the choked sob. His chest aches. His head feels fuzzy. He knows he has to be here, has to support Awsten, but he’s not sure how long he can watch this. He’s not sure how deep his self-control runs because he’s seconds away from getting out of this hardass plastic pew and going to his boy.

“S-Sorry.” Awsten’s voice is barely a whisper when he speaks next. “I couldn’t control it. What I, um, got off to. I kept…I tried to get hard during the straight porn but I couldn’t. And they just kept screaming…” He trails off. “That we were going to hell, that we’d die alone, they’d cure us, make us worthy of love…they promised.” He hiccups. “They promised that that no one would ever love us…that no love was better than loving another guy…”

He sobs again. Geoff stands and slides past Michael, into the aisle. 

“Geoff?”

“Geoff, what are you doing?”

“Babe, sit down.”

“It’s almost over.” 

Enough is enough.

He storms forward. Jordan and Quinn are calling for him and the judge is saying something and even that cunt’s lawyer is adding his two cents. He ignores it. He shoots the bailiff a glare as he walks up the steps to Awsten. 

Awsten’s face is buried in his hands and he’s crying too hard to know he’s there. Geoff crouches down so they’re eye level and grips Awsten’s wrists. He touches his thumb and ring finger together, encircling the limbs, as not to irritate Awsten’s healing cuts. Slowly, carefully, he moves Awsten’s hands away from his face and holds open his arms.

And Awsten falls. 

And he catches.

And everything is okay.

But nothing is okay.

…

“This was by far, not an easy decision to come to. It was completely split down the middle. The result won by 1 vote. We, the jury, have agreed that based upon Mr. Knight’s compelling confession, his son should be returned to their home to see if they can work something out. We understand that he’s received excellent care in the group home and it is clear that they love and cherish him as their own, but it is our wish for him to go back to his parents and try to find a common ground, given what his father has just revealed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I'm sorry.
> 
> (next chapter = aftermath: lucas + moms + laura scene, living room conversation, and...awsten leaves. there's a ton of gawsten but it's angsty as fuck, clearly)
> 
> I'm really sorry guys. Thank you for reading, those of you who've gotten this far.
> 
> I'm not gonna say I hope you enjoyed because no part of this was enjoyable for either of us. (you guys have no idea how long this took me to write it was a literal mental block I did not want to do this I did not want to hurt my sunshine boy like this I'm so sorry)


	58. Chapter 58

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to update last night, but...anyone who follows me on Twitter knows what happened. Please read the author's note at the end, guys.
> 
> Trigger warnings - self-harm, anxiety, panic attacks, abuse, homophobia, and eating disorders.

“I’ve been doin’ this for almost ten years now, and that was the worst panic attack I’ve ever seen.”

Lucas drops into the empty chair around the island and reaches for one of the bottles of water. “I gave him a double dose of Xanax and something to help him sleep. Gave Geoff a sleeping pill too. They just…they don’t needa deal with nightmares right now.”

“What the _hell_ do we do now…” Quinn trails off, blinking and closing her eyes against the tears.

This is the one they were most afraid for. After hearing the full extent of what Awsten had been through a few days ago, this is the trial they were the most anxious about. This is the one that _couldn’t_ go badly. It _couldn’t_ end like this. 

Awsten won’t survive his parents’ house again.

“He can’t go back there.” There are tears in Jordan’s voice. She reaches up to rub at her eyes. “He…they were lying. They were lying to win. They _had_ to be!”

“That doesn’t matter,” Laura says. “Their lawyer was smart. It was a brilliant move. Getting sympathy from the jury almost _always_ works. The only way we can repeal their decision is to prove his parents haven’t changed, that they’re still set in their homophobic ways and their house is a damaging environment for someone part of the LGBTQ+ community.”

“How do we do that?”

“They said he still needs therapy, right?” 

“He needs to keep comin’ to me,” Lucas mutters. “I’ll go there, we can have the damn session in my car for all I care. But switching therapists on him is _not_ a good idea given how fragile he is.”

“They better be okay that.”

“They’re not allowed to change it,” Laura tells them. “That was part of the decision. So Awsten will still have weekly sessions with you, and hopefully you’ll be able to gather enough proof through those.”

“I am _not_ repeating anything that boy tells me in a court of law,” Lucas says firmly. “He has enough trust issues without having ta be scared he can’t say what’s really on his mind. There has to be another way.”

“No, of course not.” Laura holds her hands up in surrender. “Your confidentiality agreement still exists, I’m well aware of that. I’m talking about physical abuse, bruises, increased self-harm, losing weight…anything that proves being in their house is detrimental to his mental and physical health.”

“This is so fucked up,” Jordan mumbles, putting her head in her hands. “The poor kid’s been through enough. He doesn’t need this.”

“And what’s he gonna do without Geoff?” Quinn adds. “They’re attached at the goddamn hip. They don’t know how to be alone.”

“He helps Geoff with his nightmares and Geoff helps him feel safe. He needs someone to cling to and Geoff is that person,” Lucas sighs. “They talk about it all the time in therapy. They’re so in tune with each other, so comfortable, so reliant…it’s gonna be hell for both of them. A lot of relationships like theirs could be deemed unhealthy, but…Awsten was so deprived of touch, affection, _human contact_ …it is one hundred percent normal for him to be clinging to Geoff the way he is. And Geoff’s gotten just as attached because of it. Kinda a testament to the subtle trauma of conversion therapy. Like, the bigger stuff is obvious but this is an effect too. And it’s just as bad. He’s been getting better but he is nowhere close to high-functioning and this is going to get rid of even that little progress...”

“What do we do now?” Quinn hears herself say. She barely recognizes her voice. It keeps cracking and the words hurt coming up. “He’s here for tonight, and then…”

“Hopefully he and Geoff’ll sleep through most of it,” Lucas says heavily. “The sleeping pill should knock ‘em out ‘till morning. He needs the rest. I know it’s their last night together and his last night here, but…he had a really bad panic attack. He needs to sleep. His body can’t take much more.”

“And tomorrow morning?”

“I’ll set our session up for Sunday,” Lucas replies. “That’s three days from now. Hopefully…hopefully he makes it until then.”

“You don’t sound very optimistic.”

“I’m not.”

…

“This is so fucked up.”

“I still don’t get it. They voted to send him back to people who put him in a _conversion therapy_ camp?”

“Did you guys know he was in one?”

“No…”

“I knew,” Alex speaks up. The knot in his throat throbs. A tear rolls down his cheek. “He told me after that fight with Geoff a few months ago. And then I convinced him to tell Geoff. And I guess he told moms somewhere along the way.”

Jack squeezes his waist and he turns his face into Jack’s chest, closing his eyes. “You’re okay, Lex. It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” he cries. “He can’t go back there Jay. He can’t.”

“Moms are working on it.” Jack pulls him onto his lap and begins to rub his back. Alex swallows, sliding an arm back between Jack’s body and the couch. He hugs him tightly, trying to muffle sobs against Jack’s shirt. “You gotta breathe Lex. Just focus on your breathing.”

“Fuck, I can’t even imagine…”

“It explains so much, though.”

“Kinda feel bad about how much we made fun of him bein’ attached to Geoff now…”

Alex exhales. He turns his head, keeping his cheek against Jack’s shirt. “He knows you didn’t mean it. You didn’t know.”

“And besides, Gerard and Frank and Mikey and Luke are just as bad and none of them were sent to one of those camps.”

“Um.”

“Shit.”

“Mikey, I-”

“It’s okay,” Michael says quietly. “I talked to him this morning. Gonna call again tonight. We’ve been fallin’ asleep on facetime every night. S’the only way I get any sleep.”

“Ry and I do that.”

“When you’re _not_ spendin’ the night at his house?”

“Fuck off.”

“So wait, where are they?” Kellin asks. “Haven’t seen them since…since we got home, actually. Damn.”

“Awsten had a really bad panic attack. Lucas gave him Xanax and something to help him sleep. Geoff’s staying with him. Lucas gave him a sleeping pill too. They’re not gonna deal with nightmares tonight.” Jordan joins them in the room with a tray of ice cream sundaes. “I know we’re not celebrating, but mama thought you guys could use a little pick me up. There’s more ice cream and extra toppings in the kitchen if you wanna add stuff.”

Alex looks at the ice creams but doesn’t move. Jack won’t budge because ice cream is sugar and fat and calories and he wouldn’t touch it with a ten foot pole and Alex knows that shouldn’t bring him relief but it does because the thought of ingesting anything right now makes him want to puke.

The thought of Awsten going back to his parents sends the entire contents of his stomach rushing back up his throat and he untangles himself from Jack’s body just in time to race to the bathroom and let them spill. 

…

Awsten is sobbing.

His head’s been buried in Geoff’s chest ever since they woke up this morning. The tears just keep coming and coming. Geoff’s shirt is past the point of saturation. It can’t be too comfortable but Awsten doesn’t seem intent on moving.

“I love you,” Geoff whispers into his hair. He wraps his arms around Awsten’s waist and squeezes, brushing his lips against blue strands of hair. “You’ll be back really soon, I promise. I won’t let you stay there. I won’t let them hurt you again.”

“They will,” Awsten hiccups, lifting his head up. He’s bleary-eyed and tearstained, cheeks red and face swollen from rubbing against Geoff’s shirt. “I can’t do this. Please, I can’t…”

“Awsten…” Geoff sighs. He presses kisses to the corner of each eye, both cheeks, and the tip of his nose. Awsten’s lip is quivering. Geoff kisses there too, soft and warm and slightly salty, squeezing his waist. “I love you, sweetheart. I love you so much. And nothing they say will ever change that. Being gay is _not_ an illness, you are _not_ wrong. You’re valid and important and so fuckin’ loved, baby. I’m gonna text it to you every day so you remember. You’re perfect just the way you are. There is _nothing_ wrong with you, my love.”

Awsten’s face crumples again and it’s back against Geoff’s shirt. He bites his lip and continues to rub Awsten’s back. 

He’s been trying to keep it together, for Awsten’s sake. Hold everything in until he leaves and then let it all out. Awsten needs him to be strong and he’s trying his best to stay that way. He has all the time after Awsten leaves to be a complete mess. All he wants to do is break down in the same tears but keeping Awsten together is more important. 

There’s an ache behind his eyes and his chest throbs every time he takes a breath in. He feels like he’s been holding back tears forever, like they’re collecting in a balloon at the base of his skull that’s just about to pop. 

“I’m really sorry babe.” Jordan’s voice cracks in the middle of the sentence. Geoff looks up, keeping an arm around Awsten’s back and running the other hand through his hair. “They’re here. It’s time ta go.”

Awsten’s grip on Geoff tightens. Geoff exhales heavily and nods at Jordan. “Is everyone-”

“In the foyer.” Jordan shoots him a tearful smile. “C’mon down when you’re ready.”

“Nonononono,” Awsten sobs. 

“Look at me.” Geoff pulls back to make eye contact with him. “It’s gonna be okay, I promise you. We’re gonna get you back. Moms said Laura’s already talkin’ ta the judge. We’re gonna prove they haven’t changed and you’ll be right back here baby, I promise. Just…hang on. For me. I love you.”

“I love you,” Awsten echoes. He presses himself back against Geoff as they walk down the stairs and into the entryway, where sure enough, everyone is gathered.

“This isn’t fair.”

“You don’t deserve this.”

“You’re gonna come back, okay?”

“We love you.”

Awsten steps forward and Geoff watches as he goes around the circle, hugging everyone. He saves Kellin and Alex for last, crouching down to wrap his arms around Kellin and emitting a soft noise of surprise when Kellin pulls him into his lap. 

Everyone loves Awsten. They all love each other, but Awsten is that perfect mix of happysad, the comic relief that goes from sassing people and being obnoxious and making dick jokes on the daily to curling into Geoff and begging for cuddles and turning soft and small. 

_The house is going to be so different without him_.

Geoff blinks as a choked sob vibrates through the room. Awsten and Alex are clutching each other tightly. Awsten’s head is buried in Alex’s shoulder and Alex’s chin is resting on top, eyes closed, tears streaming. 

They’re talking in tearful, hushed voices. It goes on for almost five minutes. A car horn honks outside.

“God fuckin’ dammit,” Jordan mutters. “Babe, they’re bein’ impatient. You gotta wrap this up, ‘kay?”

“C’mon Lex.” Jack slides behind Alex and wraps his arms around his waist, then begins to pull him backward. Geoff takes a step forward and puts his hands on Awsten’s, squeezing. His hands fit – they’re almost too big – around Awsten’s torso. He’s lost so much weight. Geoff can feel his ribs. His hipbone is jutting out.

“Go outside,” Michael advises with a smirk. “If they haven’t changed it’ll really piss ‘em off.”

“Or he’ll get a beating when he gets home,” Alex mutters.

“It’ll be worth it.” The first hint of a smile Geoff’s seen in days peeks out onto Awsten’s face. He follows him outside, into the middle of the driveway. His parents’ car is parked on the side of the road. They’re both peering out the passenger side window.

Geoff wraps his arms around Awsten’s waist and pulls him in, as close as their bodies can physically get. Awsten wraps his own arms around Geoff’s neck and they press their lips together. “I love you so fucking much,” Geoff murmurs against Awsten’s mouth. “Remember that.”

“You too,” Tears are running down Awsten’s cheeks. “I love you I love you I love you.”

“Eat,” Geoff shakes his pointer finger back and forth. “Don’t come back ta me an actual skeleton, you hear? _Eat_. And keep it down. Promise me.”

“Gee…”

“Try,” Geoff begs. “Promise you’ll _try_.”

“I promise.”

“The cutting too, okay?” Geoff steps back slightly, grabbing one of Awsten’s arms and pushing his sleeve back. He barely looks at the cuts, bringing Awsten’s wrist to his lips. He tastes copper. The cuts are fresh. He swallows. “Promise me you’ll try ta stop. Stop hurtin’ the beautiful human I love so much.”

Awsten takes his arm back and kisses him again. He winds his arms around Geoff’s shoulder blades. “I love you.”

“I love you.” 

Awsten finally pulls back and turns around. He starts walking to the car, still looking at Geoff, mouthing ‘I love yous’. 

“I love you,” Geoff whispers. Awsten can’t hear him. He kisses his palm and holds it out in front of him, other hand on his heart. “God, I love you.”

He misses him already.

… 

Awsten is shaking.

His hands are trembling so violently that he can’t open the car door. His hands keep sliding off, sweat-soaked and vibrating. He leans forward and reaches for the handle again, but the door swings open before he can pull it. He falls, gripping onto the side of the car to keep from face planting onto the pavement.

“Get inside.” The voice is gruff. Hoarse. Harsh.

Everything stops. 

His heart is starting to race. He feels the cold, the chill, the shiver that travels down his spine and causes an involuntary shudder. The flash is brief but leaves him sweating, dizzy and disoriented and unsteady on his feet.

He’s heard the voice before.

He’d know the voice anywhere.

It’s _the_ voice.

A hand grips his bicep and drags him forward and he trips. He stumbles and almost falls flat on his face again. His vision is blurry. Spots of black are starting to impede it. 

“You thought you could pull a stunt like that and just _get away_ with it?” 

His father’s breath is rank.

He feels the wetness from spit on his face.

He closes his eyes and clenches his fists. Prepares. Braces. Bites down on his lip and draws blood at the same time he feels a sharp pain in his abdomen.

“It works every time.” The warm breath is right next to his ear. “Say the right thing, shed a few tears, and they’re _eating_ out of your hands. And you, boy…don’t even get me _started_ on that little display in the driveway. I was gonna go easy on you. But you don’t deserve that. You don’t deserve anything. Why?”

He’s torn a hole through his lip. The blood is running down his chin. He keeps his eyes tightly shut. 

Another punch to his gut. “Why?”

He hears himself say the words but they feel like someone else’s, a bad taste on his tongue, “faggots don’t deserve to live.”

“Don’t you fuckin’ forget it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I wanna start by saying...the comments last chapter were absolutely insane. Not only is that my record for this story, it's my record for any fanfiction piece I've ever published, and guys, I've been publishing since around 2012. You are incredible. Words cannot thank you.
> 
> Secondly...this story is my baby. It is my pride and joy; it is definitely the best thing I've ever written, and it is the project I'm most proud of. It's art and I am so happy with it. People have asked me how I cope, whether I'm okay...the truth is, no. I'm really not. I struggle with a few of the mental illnesses portrayed in this story, and honestly, as to how I cope...I write. Writing this has been extremely cathartic, a form of therapy for me. This story means more than I can put into words. Like I said, if you follow me on Twitter, you know that yesterday was a really bad day for me and you know why. I'm not going to say anything else on the matter. Just...this story is very close to my heart, the most raw and personal thing I've ever written, and I choose to share it with all of you. Fanfiction is all completely free and completely out there to the world, and we, as authors, take a very big risk in doing that. I'm going to stop there.
> 
> Next chapter, tensions run high in the house, leading to some very uncomfortable times between people you'd least expect. Patrick doesn't handle it well. Geoff (clearly) doesn't, either. Angsty Jalex. An insight to abuse from someone who has been abused. And a scene with Michael and Geoff, which is very telling, given where Awsten and Luke are right now. The more comments I get, the quicker it's yours.
> 
> Thanks for reading.


	59. Chapter 59

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings - eating disorders (purging scene), abuse, anxiety, panic attacks, and mentions of suicide.

“I can’t believe you right now.”

“That’s real rich, comin’ from the one a fuckin’ _ridiculous_ plan.”

“It’s not ridiculous, for fuck’s sake! It’ll work!”

“You’re being so fuckin’ irrational right now, jesus fuckin’ christ.”

Jordan and Quinn have been arguing back and forth for the past half hour. They’re standing in the kitchen and yelling at each other, completely unaware that everyone in the living room is getting an all-access pass.

Patrick winces. He turns his face into Pete’s shoulder and puts a hand on his stomach. He presses inward. The food starts to slosh around uncomfortably, irritated. The knot in his throat seeps down into his stomach, into the pit being created. He bites his lip and pushes against Pete’s shoulder with his hand, pushes himself up and off the couch.

“You okay?” Pete reaches for him. He cringes away, takes a step backward and puts his hands up in surrender.

“Fine,” he says quickly. He opens his mouth to continue, placate with another remark of just _how_ fine he is, but they all hear footsteps, loud stomps of anger that come closer and closer. He takes another tiny step back and turns around. 

Jordan rips her jacket from the closet and snatches a pair of keys. Quinn follows close behind, planting her feet so their noses are almost touching when Jordan whirls around to acknowledge her. “What the hell? I wasn’t done!”

“I was,” Jordan growls. “I can’t even be in the same room as you right now.”

“Excuse me? _You’re_ in the wrong here!”

“Oh, am I?” Jordan snaps. She glares at Quinn. “Believe whatever bullshit you want. It won’t change my mind. And you’re too damn stubborn to change yours.”

Patrick watches as Jordan yanks the door open and slams it shut behind her. The walls shake from the brute force. He brings a hand to his chest. There’s a seed of an ache, growing and expanding and blossoming into a pain plant that’s starting to take over his entire body. 

“Mama?” Jack ventures. He gets off the couch and walks over to her. “Are you okay?”

“Huh? Yeah, yeah I’m fine sweetheart,” Quinn replies. She seems distracted, staring off at something in the distance, not really “in” the conversation. Jack wraps an arm around her shoulders and whispers something into her ear. Patrick’s heart thuds in his chest. Jordan and Quinn _never_ fight. They’re one of those couples that are so in-tune with each other, they know each other well enough to know what not to say and what the other needs without having to speak the actual words.

He’s been here two years.

They’ve had little arguments, but nothing _nearly_ as bad as this.

One of them hasn’t _walked out_ before.

He swallows. 

“’Trick? Babe, you okay?” 

He blinks rapidly and looks down at Pete. “I, um. Yeah. I’m fine. Gonna…gonna go take a nap.”

“Aw shit that sounds good,” Pete murmurs. “Might come join ya later.”

He turns, stumbling on his feet as he rushes out of the room. His stomach hurts. His heart is racing. The room is moving, like he’s looking at it through one of those crazy mirrors at a carnival. He almost falls three times on the short journey to the bathroom.

He drops to his knees onto the tile floor and scoots over to the toilet. Tears are forming in his eyes. He can’t stop shaking. He can hear his heart _thudthudthudthudthud_ pounding in his ears. Everything is spinning.

He inserts two fingers into the back of his throat and squeezes his eyes shut.

…

“Alright, no one bother mama tonight.” 

Jack makes his way over to the couch and lifts Alex’s legs to slide underneath them. Alex smiles up at him and scoots onto his lap. He turns his head for a kiss and Alex wraps one arm around his neck, pulling himself up.

“Oh my god.”

“Seriously?”

“Fuck you both.”

“Calm down, jesus christ,” Jack mutters when they pull away. “Who pissed in your cereal?”

Frank leans over and hisses in his ear, “look at Geoff.” 

Jack lifts his head and turns to the side of the room. Geoff is sitting alone in one of the armchairs. His knees are pulled up to his chest and he’s blinking rapidly. His eyes are shiny and his hair is messy and his face is swollen. 

He looks around the room, pulling his lip in with his teeth. Frank is sitting beside Gerard and their hands are joined, but they’re not really touching aside from that. Every couple, _everyone_ …they’re touching but not, bodies slotted together or arms around one another, but no more than that. Not like…

 _He stormed in here and pulled Alex onto his lap and kissed him like he hadn’t seen him in days_. 

He swallows and gently pushes Alex off his lap. “I’m really sorry, Geoff.”

“S’okay.” Geoff’s voice is wrecked and it makes him cringe. “You shouldn’t havta not…’cause of me. S’fine.”

“Have you heard from him yet?”

“They haven’t changed.” Geoff’s voice is thick with tears. “It was an act to get him back. And his dad keeps going on about sin and the bible and he’s being forced to listen to it and Alex was right, they _did_ beat him for what we did in the driveway.” He hiccups. “I just…I want him back…I want him safe with me, I can’t do this…”

“He’s gonna be back before you know it.”

“If they don’t kill him first.”

…

“Do you really think they’re going to _kill_ Awsten?”

Alex shrugs. He lifts his and Jack’s joined hands to his lips and closes his eyes. “Sometimes they go too far. Don’t realize what they’re doing. They’re just so _angry_ …”

He swallows and takes a deep breath. The anger is volatile. Temperamental. You never know what’s going to set them off. The biggest things don’t and the smallest do. Getting home after curfew never pissed his parents off as bad as accidentally dropping a plate or forgetting to turn off the light in the bathroom. It’s the things you don’t expect, the little things. There are so many misconceptions. 

You don’t know what it’s like to be abused unless you _have been_ abused.

You don’t know sneaking down the stairs in the middle of the night and holding your breath in front of them and tears burning when it’s not perfect because it _has_ to be perfect perfectperfectperfect if something’s not perfect they’ll get mad if it’s not done right they’ll get mad if anything is different they’ll get mad and you’re never ready for what they do to you. 

Pain becomes a familiar home, a blanket to settle into, because if you’re not in pain something’s wrong if they’re being nice something’s wrong something’s up bad things are coming pain is routine and any break in the routine signifies the worst.

When his father went a week without laying a hand on him he ended up in the hospital with his arm snapped in half and a concussion so bad he passed out.

When his mother didn’t talk to him for three days the next words she spoke were about how much she wished she’d aborted him when she had the chance.

Abuse fucks with every perception of reality and conception of the world because time isn’t real rules don’t exist there are a strict set of unspoken rules that every abused kid knows and follows to a T because bad things happen if they don’t. 

“Lex? Hey, you okay?” He blinks, focusing in on Jack. His chest is tight. His head is spinning. It feels oversaturated, too full, too heavy. It’s too much everything is too much why is it so hard to breathe why can’t he breathe why does he _think_ himself into panic attacks why is he like this whywhywhy.

“Can’t…can’t breathe…” He gasps. He brings a hand to his chest and wheezes. He tries to inhale but the air comes too fast and he coughs, presses the hand into his chest and tries to staunch the pain. 

“Yes you can.” Jack grabs one of his hands and brings it to his own chest. “Here. Feel that?” Jack emphasizes taking in a deep breath and exhaling. Alex feels his chest open up, feels the breath Jack takes in and lets out, and tries to do the same. “There you go. Keep breathing. You’ve got it. You’re okay.”

“Jay…” He drops his head and lets his torso fall limp. A pair of hands catches him and Jack brings him into his lap and he sighs, rubbing his cheek against Jack’s shirt and closing his eyes. “Sorry.”

“You don’t havta be sorry,” Jack murmurs. “It’s gonna be okay love. I’m here. I gotcha. And I’m never lettin’ go.”

“Love you.”

“I love you too.”

…

“Hey, dinner’s- oh, Geoff…”

Geoff doesn’t look up. He presses Awsten’s pillowcase further into his face. If he could absorb it into his skin he would. Carry Awsten’s scent and touch with him all the time. He’d squeeze every last bit of it out into a wine bottle and turn it into liquid and stay drunk off it, in a state of permanent intoxication. He’d do it. Anything that’d get him as close to having the real Awsten in his arms as possible. Nothing will compare but this might come close.

“C’mon, y’can’t do this to yourself…” The bed dips with added weight and another hand grips the pillowcase, clenching the fabric and tugging. He squirms away, bites his lip and lets more tears soak into it. 

“Geoff.” Michael’s voice is firm, but soft. “Can you at least look at me? I know you miss him. I miss Luke. But he wouldn’t want you ta do this ta yourself.”

“He’s not dead,” Geoff rasps. “Stop talkin’ like he is. He’s not dead he’s just away…at home…with people who sent him to conversion therapy and abused him from years and could kill him…” He sits up and clutches the pillow tighter. “He’s probably getting hit right now and I’m sitting here doing fuckin’ nothing about it!”

More tears come, rolling down his cheeks and saturating the one spot of the pillow where his cheeks are. When he lifts it he looks down into the wet spots, crunching down harder on his lip. 

“Ya gotta breathe,” Michael says. “It’s gonna be okay, I promise.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You’re right,” Michael admits. “I don’t. Luke could be havin’ panic attacks and wantin’ ta kill himself and I’m sitting here not doing anything and when I think about it too much I feel like I can’t breathe too. But then I remember that moms are working so hard and doing everything to get him back and one day he will be, back, in my arms, and that makes me feel better. Gives me some hope, at least.”

“Luke’s not gonna come back to you half dead and beyond suicidal,” Geoff chokes out. “You don’t get it.”

“I don’t think they’re going to kill him,” Michael says carefully. “Why would they go to all the trouble to get him back just ta do that?”

“It was an act, Mikey,” Geoff whispers. “His dad’s not bi. It was a stupid fuckin’ sob story they made up ta get sympathy. They may not be tryna kill him but they’re angry enough to. He’s off his meds and I’m not there and they fill his head with all that homophobic bullshit so what if he kills _himself_? I don’t want him to and I told him that but I wouldn’t blame him if he did because the shit they put him through is just…” He trails off, rubbing angrily at his eyes. “He’s not comin’ out of this without a scratch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Things are happening...Alex's trial isn't for a bit but there's a lot to come within that time, don't worry. Next chapter there's a Jordan and Quinn scene, Calum talks to Michael about some things, Lucas goes to see Awsten for his therapy session, and Rian and Alex and Jack and Zack spend the night before Alex's trial preparing (which involves a lot of tears and anxiety and cuddling). I know you like the Rilex and Merrikat friendships, so that's my gift to you, in preparation for this trial. The more comments I get, the quicker it's yours. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	60. Chapter 60

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 60 chapters. I can't believe it. Thank you guys so much.
> 
> Trigger warnings - anxiety, panic attacks, abuse, mentions of eating disorders, and mentions of suicide.

Jordan turns the doorknob and pushes the door open slowly. She slips into the house and turns the knob again, shutting the door almost silently.

“I see you, y’know.”

She stops. Her heart is starting to race. She turns around and takes a step forward. 

Quinn is sitting at the island, nursing a mug. Her phone is on next to it but the screen is dim. She’s wearing a Suicide Silence shirt that’s much too big for her – _one of hers_ , Jordan thinks, biting her lip. 

“About last night…” She starts. She joins Quinn at the island and sidesteps around her to grab a water bottle. She’s not thirsty. She doesn’t want to talk about how she spent the night on Logan’s couch, drinking from the same bottle of beer and lamenting her life’s grievances. The fight shouldn’t have even happened. It was so stupid and so pointless and she was stressed and worried about Awsten and Luke and scared for Alex and she took it out on Quinn.

“Don’t you _ever_ do that to me again.” Quinn’s voice breaks. It’s thick with tears. Jordan looks up. She sees the watery film pooling in Quinn’s eyes and her quivering lip. 

She surges forward and pulls Quinn into her arms, resting her chin on top of her head. Quinn lets out a choked sob and that’s when Jordan realizes she’s crying too, salty tears dripping down her cheeks and soaking into Quinn’s hair. She swallows and closes her eyes. “I love you so much. I’m so sorry.”

“You can’t walk out like that,” Quinn cries. She pulls back, looking Jordan in the eye, and rubs at her cheeks. “What was I supposed ta tell the kids? What if you didn’t come back? What if you got hit by a car and my last memory of you was our fight?”

“I’m sorry,” Jordan repeats. She leans in for a kiss. Quinn wraps her arms around her neck and Jordan smiles, wrapping her own around Quinn’s waist and pulling her in. When they part for air, they press their foreheads together. “I love you so much. I’m so sorry.”

“Where’d you go?”

“Logan’s,” Jordan mumbles. “We drank and I cried and it was shitty and I missed you. I hate fighting with you.”

“Me too.”

“I’m sorry I called you stubborn,” Jordan whispers, reaching out to cup her cheek. “Like it was a bad thing. I love how stubborn you are. I love how passionate you get. It’s what makes you you and it’s beautiful.”

Quinn smiles. “I’m sorry I was bein’ ridiculous. That was a shitty plan. It would’ve never worked. I knew that. I just didn’t wanna see it. I didn’t wanna believe it wouldn’t work.”

“We’ll get them back,” Jordan promises, pecking her lips. “They’re our boys. We’ll have them back soon.”

“I just hope they’re okay.” Quinn’s voice is choked. “Especially Awsten. I…his parents were lying and you _remember_ how we found him…”

“I know.” Jordan hugs her again and buries her face in her shoulder. “Believe me, I know.”

…

“M’not hungry.”

“Babe, you know you have to eat.” 

“I said I’m not _fucking_ hungry, didn’t I? I don’t _want_ to eat.”

“Michael-”

“No, fuck this.” He throws his napkin down onto his plate, slides his chair back, and stomps out of the room. Quinn looks from the bowl of pasta in her hands to Michael’s retreating back. 

“I’ll talk to him,” Jordan sighs.

“No, wait, can I?” Calum asks. “He might take it better from me.”

“Sure, kiddo.”

Calum exchanges a look with Ashton and shoots him a smile. He slides out of his chair and heads for the stairs. Michael’s in their room when he gets there, sitting on his bed with his knees pulled up to his chest and his phone in his hands. Calum can hear the ringing of a facetime call. It keeps going, until the call eventually fails and Michael lets out an exasperated groan.

“G’way,” he mumbles. “Don’t wanna talk.”

“Well, Luke’s not answering and you gotta talk ta someone,” he replies. He takes a seat on the edge of Michael’s bed. “C’mon Mikey. It’s me.”

“I want Luke.” Michael’s voice breaks. He won’t look at him. Calum reaches for his hand but he snatches it away. He brings his knees further into his body and drops his head down onto them.

“I know. I’m sorry,” Calum says. Luke makes Michael happier than he’s ever seen him. The light in Michael’s eyes when Luke sneaks up behind him and wraps his arms around his waist or enters a room and takes a seat on his lap or rests his head on his shoulder is brilliant. Michael wants, _needs_ to feel needed, and Luke gives him that. 

Michael’s felt unneeded his entire life. Calum remembers the late night phone calls after his mom died, staying up until three in the morning to try and reassure Michael it wasn’t anything he did. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t his fault she was in that car accident and it wasn’t his fault his father couldn’t deal with his grief, it wasn’t his fault it wasn’t his fault it wasn’t his fucking fault.

He said the words so many times they felt empty by the end. He was spitting out reassurances but it didn’t seem like Michael was hearing him. He didn’t think he was enough or that the world needed him because if it did why did it take his parents away why did it leave him an orphan why didn’t anyone want him why why why.

And then Luke comes along with a bright smile and eager eyes and too much anxiety for his body to take and Michael becomes his obnoxious advocate, assuming an unspoken position of authority that Luke claims he doesn’t need but really can’t survive without.

“I miss him.” He’s choked up and there are tears on his cheeks. “I didn’t think it would be this hard.”

“Skippin’ dinner’s not the answer, you know that, right?” 

“Luke would be so pissed.” Michael shoots him a tearful smile. “He told me to take care of myself. Not ta get bad again. And I’m not, I swear. I just…I miss him and I wanna hear his voice and he’s not answering and I’m so worried about him and I wanna hold him and kiss him I miss kissing him I miss cuddling him I miss _him_.”

“He’s gonna be back soon.”

“Not soon enough.”

Calum starts to speak but is cut off by Michael’s phone starting to ring. They both look down at it. Luke’s picture is lighting up the screen. Michael smiles and answers immediately and Calum watches as he starts to speak in a rush, stumbling over his words in a haste to get them out. Luke laughs on the other end.

He shuts the door on his way out and hopes Ashton’s done eating.

Michael’s boyfriend is on the other side of town but his is on the other side of this house and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t take advantage of that fact because he very well could’ve lost it. 

…

“You’re here…”

“Hi kiddo,” Lucas says. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to swallow.

It’s been three days.

Awsten’s been back with his parents for _three days_ , and so much damage has already been done. His lip is swollen and one of his eyes is blackened and there’s a bruise on his cheek. He’s favoring his right leg and has an arm across his abdomen. “They don’t want you coming in…”

“That’s okay.” Lucas holds out a hand. “We can go for a drive. I’ll take you wherever you want. Just…I can’t take you back to the house. I’m so sorry.”

“No, I know. It’s okay.” Awsten’s voice is cracking all over the place. He sounds like he’s about to burst into tears. Lucas’ heart throbs. He takes Awsten’s hand and leads him down the front steps and into his car. 

Lucas puts the car into drive and speeds down the street as soon as Awsten closes his door. He needs to get him away from that house as fast as possible. They only have an hour. “Is there a park anywhere around here, bud?”

“Yeah,” Awsten says. “Right at that light and then go all the way straight and it’s on the left.”

“Alright.” Lucas takes one hand off the steering wheel. He’s about to put it on Awsten’s shoulder but stops when he flinches. “Oh kid…I’m sorry.”

“They were lying.” Awsten’s voice is quiet, almost inaudible. “About everything. It hurts. It hurts so bad…I want Geoff. I want Geoff I don’t wanna be here I don’t wanna do this it hurts it hurts so much I wanna go home I want Geoff!” He buries his face in his hands. His body is shaking and he’s making tiny sobs. 

Lucas bites his lip. He wants to get out of the car and bring this boy into the strongest hug possible. Maybe that’s his fatherly instinct coming out because Awsten is so close in age to his own son or maybe it’s the fact that this boy has suffered so much, for so long, and he can’t catch a break. He was starting to get better and the trial ruined it. He finally had a family that loved him, a boyfriend…he was finally happy, and now every bit of progress is going down the drain.

“Can I give you a hug?” Lucas asks. “If you’re not comfortable I won’t. Please don’t feel like you havta say yes. You don’t, I promise.”

Awsten lifts his head. His cheeks are swollen and his face is glistening and his eyes are shiny. He pulls his lip in with his teeth and gives the tiniest nod. Lucas slides out of the car and walks around to Awsten’s side. He opens the door and holds his arms out and Awsten crashes into them, burying his face in his chest and letting out a guttural sob.

“Oh, kiddo…” Lucas sighs. His heart hurts. This is what they were all afraid of, for so long. Awsten was such a mess when he was first brought to the group home. Undoing all the damage his parents did took _months_. He’s been working so hard on recovery, and here they are tearing it down again. “I know. You gotta breathe for me though, alright? I know it hurts and you’re allowed ta cry, but please try and breathe.”

He feels like glass. Delicate china that’ll break if he squeezes too hard. He’s literal skin and bones, emaciated, bones jutting out sharply. Lucas can feel every single one of his ribs. Figure doesn’t dictate weight but he can also hear Awsten’s stomach growling and even if it weren’t, it’s obvious that he hasn’t been eating.

Tears are pricking at the corners of his eyes. He wants to go home and find his son and squeeze him to death. He never thought he’d be as attached to these kids as he is. He rubs Awsten’s back and tightens his hold. “Let’s go sit by the water, okay? Let’s talk. You can tell me whatever’s on your mind. You can let it all out. It’s going to be okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

“Will you…” Awsten trails off, voice muffled. He finishes his question but it’s completely incoherent. 

“What was that, kid?”

“Will you keep holding me? Please, I just, I can’t, they don’t, I need…” He starts to stammer and his heart starts to race again. 

“Of course I will,” Lucas says firmly, squeezing him tighter to emphasize his point. “I won’t let go until you tell me to. I’m here. I promise. I know I’m not Geoff, but…”

“You help.”

…

“I’m not ready. I can’t do this.”

“Yes you can. You have to.”

“I’m not _ready_ , Zack!” Jack snaps. “He hasn’t slept in _days_! He keeps havin’ panic attacks and nightmares and he’s always crying and _I can’t do it_!”

“Hey. Breathe.” A pair of arms grip his shoulders and force him to look up. He meets Zack’s eyes for a second and then turns his gaze away. A tear drips down his cheek and he brings his lip in with his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. More tears burn at the corners. “You gonna look at me?”

“No.”

“Jack.”

“I can’t do this,” Jack cries. The tears are coming faster now, hot and heavy down his cheeks in rivulets. He whips his head up and covers his face with his hands. The liquid soaks into his skin until his hands start sliding off his face because they’re oversaturated. He wipes desperately, to no avail. “I can’t fucking do it.”

Zack cups his chin. “Just lemme talk for a sec, wouldya?” He thumbs tears off Jack’s cheeks with a sympathetic smile. “I know it’s hard. Ri’s actually been havin’ nightmares too, believe it or not. Alex told him a lot. Made him promise not ta tell anyone. He had to hold it all in, and havin’ ta testify…it’s gonna be a lot for him. But he’s gonna do it and he’s gonna get through it and I’m gonna be there to hold him when it’s over. You can’t take away his pain, Jay. You gotta accept that. It’s not your fault he’s hurting and you’re not a bad person for not bein’ able ta take it away. You gotta let him hurt and be there to hold him when it’s over. That’s all you can do.”

“This is why I didn’t wanna do this,” Jack confesses. His stomach is churning. The little food he’s ingested is preparing to make a reappearance. He swallows hard. “He’s got too much shit and I’ve got too much shit and everything together…I can’t do this, Z.”

“Did you eat today?”

“Zack, I-”

“Answer the question.”

“Half an apple,” Jack mumbles. He drops his head back down and wipes his hands against the comforter. “I felt sick.”

“Your eating disorder is gonna be a bitch whether you have a boyfriend or not,” Zack deadpans. “You know that and I know that and Alex knows that. He’s not like the others, Jack. He loves you. _All_ of you. And you love him, don’t you?”

“More than anything.”

“You guys are gonna be okay,” Zack promises. “It’s hard and it sucks right now but it’s not gonna be like this forever. You’re gonna go in there tomorrow, turn off your feelings, hold his hand, and do whatever he needs ta get through the day. And then when he goes to sleep, you’re gonna call me and tell me everything in your head and I’m gonna give you the same speech I’m givin’ you right now because you _will_ be okay and you _will_ survive and everything _will_ go alright. Alright?”

“Rian’s with Lex,” Jack replies. “Can you…will you…” He trails off. There are hot coals in his cheeks and his heart is thudding loudly in his chest. He doesn’t look up. 

“Come here, you fucker.” Zack pulls him into his arms. He buries his face in his chest. His breath hitches. A sob bubbles up his throat. 

He cries.

And Zack holds him.

And he cries.

…

“I’d get ta see you more.”

“What?” Rian’s hand stills in his hair. Alex lifts his head up to meet his eyes.

“If I havta go back. I’d get ta come over like old times. It wouldn’t be so bad.” 

“Alex…”

“It’d be okay…” He’s getting choked up. His throat is closing. His vision is blurry. “I’d be okay…”

“Fuck Lex, c’mere.” Rian pulls his head down and he buries it in his chest. The tears fall and soak into Rian’s shirt. He tightens his arms around his waist and squeezes. “It’s gonna be okay Al. It’s gonna go well. It’s gonna be okay. _You’re_ gonna be okay.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You don’t know it’s not gonna go well either.”

“We thought Awsten was stayin’ and he didn’t,” Alex sobs. “He’s back in his hell and tomorrow I’ll be back in mine.”

“No you won’t,” Rian says. His voice cracks. “I’m not gonna let you I’m not gonna let them do that I’ll fuckin’ fight Lex I promise.”

“Otto testified and they still sent him back. They’re gonna fuckin’ send me back Rian just accept it!”

“Not until I hear it from the damn judge.”

“Rian.”

“Alex.”

“Marry Zack,” Alex whispers.

“What?”

“He’s gonna kill me if I go back,” Alex continues. “Marry Zack. He’ll take care of ya. And make sure Jack’s okay. Make him your best man.”

“ _You’re_ gonna be my best man, dumbass.”

“If I go back,” Alex rasps. “He’s going to kill me. I promise you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Things are...not great, and (here's a hint) they don't get any better in the next chapter. It's intense. Even more intense than this one. Peterick, Alex reflects on the morning before his trial, and...an Awsten scene. I don't wanna give it away, so I'm not gonna tell you much more, but it's...not good. The more comments I get, the quicker it's yours.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	61. Chapter 61

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um...this one's a lot. I'm really sorry, guys.
> 
> Trigger warnings - eating disorders, anxiety, panic attacks, depression, suicide, self-harm, and abuse.

“Hey babe, come here.”

Pete holds his arms open for Patrick. He’s standing at the door with his hands shoved in his pocket, gaze traveling around the room wildly.

“You good?” Brendon asks. 

Patrick jerks and nods. “Fine, yeah, sorry.” He takes a step forward and stumbles, wobbling the rest of the way over to Pete’s bed. Pete reaches for him as soon as he gets close enough, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him in to sit between his legs. He moves his arm to rest against Patrick’s chest, holding him steady. 

Patrick is shaking.

It’s so bad he’s almost vibrating. The hair on his arms is standing up and Pete can feel his heart racing. “Baby?” He asks, voice close to Patrick’s ear so Brendon doesn’t hear. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

Patrick jumps. “N-no, m’fine.” He stiffens further, if that’s possible. He feels like dead weight in Pete’s arms, rock solid, unmoving. 

“Bren, would ya mind, um…”

“Yeah yeah, sure,” Brendon replies, sliding off Frank’s bed. He lets himself out and shuts the door behind him. 

“What’s going on, ‘Trick?” he asks. “You’ve been weird ever since moms had that… _shit_.”

The realization comes quickly.

Patrick grew up in a household at war. His parents bickered and argued and fought constantly. Neighbors would call the police because it got so loud. They refused to get a divorce and instead kept picking on each other, pointing out every flaw and looking for reasons to tear each other down. It’s the main cause of Patrick’s eating disorder, the catalyst for the purging. He stress ate, used food to cope, and then began to make it come back up when it caused him to gain a ton of weight. 

“Oh, baby… They’re not your parents.” He presses a kiss to the side of Patrick’s head and begins to rub his back. “They’re not gonna get a divorce. And this isn’t gonna become a daily thing. It was one fight. They love each other, ‘Trick. Not like your parents did.”

“I know,” Patrick says tightly. “I’m fine.”

“You’re shaking, love,” Pete sighs. “You’re not fine. Let’s take some deep breaths, okay? I can feel your heart racing.”

“ _No_ , Pete!” Patrick snaps, pushing against his arm. “Let me go! I’m fuckin’ _fine_ , okay? I know they’re not my parents, I’m not two! Stop acting like something’s wrong when it’s not!”

He manages to disentangle himself and Pete watches him go, watches him almost trip in his haste to get out of the room. He exhales heavily and slumps back against his pillows with another sigh. 

Patrick can be so fucking stubborn sometimes. He hates accepting weakness and despises admitting he has a problem even more. When he first got here it was so hard to get through to him because he firmly believed he didn’t have an eating disorder, that there was nothing wrong with him. He’s so determined to be fine, to be strong, to be _something_ other than what he is, and it’s going to destroy him. 

…

“I don’t know how I’m gonna do this.”

“Honestly, kid?” Lucas says, twirling his pen in his hand. “I don’t either. If I had to face my parents in a courtroom I’d be a complete mess. All I can say is that doing this makes you so strong and so brave and puts you one step closer to never having ta see them ever again.”

Alex shrugs, playing with a loose string on his shirt sleeve. “I know, Jack told me that too. I just…they’re gonna ask about Tom and the scar on my back – I know my moms told you about that – and I couldn’t even tell _them_. Rian had to. How the fuck am I supposed to talk about it in a room full of _strangers_?”

Lucas shoots him a smile. “Do you want the therapist answer or the honest one?”

“The honest one.”

“Double up on Xanax and hope for the best, kid. That’s all you can do.”

…

He drags the blade down his wrist with a hiss of pain. 

The clock on his phone says 4:52 am. The sun is starting to peek out of the clouds. The bathroom is bathed in a dim glow, a sort of brightness with an accompanying darkness that can only be seen within the hours of 4 and 6 in the morning. It’s quiet. Peaceful. Everyone else is sleeping.

He hasn’t and he won’t. He waited until Jack drifted off and then slipped into the bathroom and here he’s sat, for the past few hours, listening to the plinkplinkplink of the leaky sink with his head pressed against the tile wall as an effort to remind himself that yes this is real yes this is happening yes _he has to see his parents today_.

He doesn’t just have to see them he has to sit in front of them and answer questions about them talk about them talk about everything talk about how his father held an iron to his skin and slammed his head against the wall and broke his ribs and threw him around like a ragdoll he was an object he wasn’t a person he wasn’t their son he was an object a punching bag they used him to get their anger out they _used_ him.

He moves the toilet paper off his wrist, crumples it into a ball, and grabs his blade again. The cut hurts but it’s a good hurt, a grounding hurt.

Pain reminds him that he’s alive.

Helps with the dissociation.

Stops panic attacks before they even start.

Jack wouldn’t be happy about it but Jack’s also not eating as much and he hasn’t said anything about _that_ so if anything, Jack’s a fucking hypocrite.

Jack’s arms are useless and his sweet nothings are meaningless and his presence is purposeless because everything about this is hopeless. No amount of cuddles and kisses and sappy ass sweet words will change that.

He has to face his parents he has to go home he has to reopen every wound he’s been trying so hard to heal ever since he got here he has to do it he has to do it he has to.

And so he’s sitting here, tears running down his cheeks, blade in his hand, reopening every healing cut he’s made.

After all, that’s what this day is going to be full of.

… 

The pain is familiar.

It’s a throbbing ache that clings to him stickily, traveling down his arms and legs like liquid soaking a piece of paper. It is constant, encompassing, expanding. It evolves in ebbs and flows, swelling when he lifts his torso against the wall and dying back down, easing as the minutes tick by while he lays there, knees drawn into his chest, head pillowed on their knobby tops, arms locked together creating a makeshift barrier in front of his skull.

He inhales. Pain pulses through his chest and begins to circulate through the rest of his body. It stings. It burns. His every nerve receptor is going haywire. There’s so much hurt, an avalanche of agony, filling a balloon that sits at the base of his abdomen, about to pop. Every time he nudges against it he feels the tears, the salty liquid that seeps from his eyes and dries on his cheeks in stiff tracks.

He swallows. The saliva hurts going down and collects in his stomach like a pit. Getting through the line of coals housed at the back of his throat is an adventure of anguish. It’s dry an deserted except for the occasional drip of saliva that sits in his stomach uncomfortably, catalyzing a reaction that’ll send everything else rushing back up.

“Geoff.” The word bites coming up. He hasn’t used his voice in days. It doesn’t sound like him. He stretches out with a gasp, stretches his arm as far as it’ll go without moving his body. The pads of his fingers brush the edge of his phone and he leans forward. His teeth are digging into his lip and he can taste the copper. He finally grabs the phone and pulls it in. 

Navigating through the screens is a task. He doesn’t want to lift his head anymore than he has to. He can see the surface of the screen from the way his cheek is positioned on the floor. He taps through until he finds the name in his contacts and hits call. 

It rings.

He waits.

“Aws…oh love, hi. Are you okay?”

“Gee.” He sobs as soon as he hears Geoff’s voice. “Gee…please…I can’t…”

“Oh sweetheart…” Geoff sounds like he’s crying. There’s movement on the other end. Rustling. His head throbs. “Sorry love, we’re at Alex’s trial. I just left the courtroom. Go on baby, let it all out.”

“I need you,” Awsten chokes out. “Everything hurts. I hurt, Gee. I hurt so bad.”

“ _Awsten_.” He can hear the ache in Geoff’s voice. “I love you so much baby. I’m so sorry. We’re trying, moms are doing _everything_ ta get the decision repealed.”

“I don’t…” He swallows. It throbs again. “I can’t move. Everything hurts. I don’t wanna be here I don’t wanna do this I wanna be dead I can’t I’m sorry I love you it’s too much I’m sorry.”

“Awsten Constantine Knight. Listen to me.” Geoff speaks firmly. “You are _not_ going to kill yourself. You are _not_ going to let him kill you. You are _not_ going to give him the satisfaction of winning, because he hasn’t won. You are who you are and you’re proud of that person and that makes you so much better than he’ll ever be.” He pauses and his voice is softer when he continues. “We _will_ get you outta there, angel. And then you’ll be home where you belong.”

“B-back in your arms,” he whispers. “Home.”

“You’ll be back home in my arms,” Geoff echoes. “Right where you belong. Just hold on a little longer, beautiful. I love you.”

“I lo-”

The words die on his lips. He hears the stomping. The shouts. The creak of the stairs as they try and support his father’s weight.

_No_.

“Aws? Babe, what’s wrong?”

“N-no,” he chokes out, tossing the phone across the floor. He curls his knees tighter to his body. Everything explodes. The tidal wave of pain washes over him, laps at the tendrils of fragments he’s tried to rebuild in his chest. It overpowers and overwhelms and he lets out a choked cry, squeezing his eyes shut.

He can hear Geoff screaming through the crackly speakers of his phone when the door bangs open. 

“What the fuck is goin’ on here, you little shit?” There’s a crunch and he knows it was his phone. He clenches his teeth and bites down harder on his lip and tries to hold in every sob, every whimper, every slightest bit of noise, because showing his pain creates more of it.

“You better answer me when I’m fuckin’ talking to ya.” The grip on his shoulder is iron. He’s lifted off the floor in one motion. He’s seeing stars and black spots and everything is spinning. He screams.

“Fuckin’ pathetic.”

The punch to his abdomen has him gasping. He has no breath left. The hand unclenches from his shirt and he falls. The contact with the hardwood floor jolts him. 

He’s not going to do this again.

He _can’t_.

He rolls onto his side with a wheeze and reaches for one of the pieces of glass from his now shattered phone.

“I love you, Geoff.” He thinks of Geoff as the words pass his lips. Soft, silky hair. Bright blue eyes. Zelda. Mario Kart. Guitar. Love. Nightmares. PTSD. Home. 

LovenightmareslovePTSDlovelovelovehomehomehomearmsarmsarms. 

“I’m sorry.” 

He drags the shard down his wrist. 

He screams. 

Everything goes fuzzy after that. Dark. Distant. He can’t see and he can’t feel and maybe that’s for the best because there’s liquid pooling beneath him and his grasp on consciousness is getting weaker.

He closes his eyes.

He doesn’t see.

He doesn’t feel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I'm really sorry.
> 
> This has been planned for...weeks?? I don't even remember when I wrote the scene but it's been at least a few weeks if not a month. (I write ahead, I have four chapters stockpiled at all times) Next chapter is Alex's trial. The intense and the heavy don't let up. (the Awsten scene here is happening simultaneously with Alex's trial if you didn't catch on) It's a lot. It has a surprise ending. None of you are prepared.
> 
> also while I'm here: happy birthday awsten happy birthday sunshine boy you've given me the world in the past year and I can't thank you enough (and it's so fitting that this is the chapter that goes up on your birthday i am so sorry)
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	62. Chapter 62

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heavy trigger warnings - anxiety, panic attacks, abuse, and mentions of self-harm.
> 
> Like Awsten's trial, this one's a lot. Message me on tumblr (theghostofashton) for a synopsis if you need one. Please keep yourselves safe.

“Were you close to your brother, Mr. Gaskarth?”

Alex blinks. He clenches his hand into a fist and digs his nails into his palm. “Yeah, I really was. He was like, my best friend, besides Rian.”

“How would you describe the relationship he had with your parents?”

“Objection!” Laura says loudly. “Relevance, your honor?”

Alex stops listening. He turns his gaze to Rian, pulling his lip in with his teeth. He can barely see. The tears are forming a blurry haze over his eyes and he’s trying to keep them back but they just keep coming, dampening his lashes and sitting on his cheeks. 

Rian is mouthing something at him. Alex cranes his neck slightly. ‘Look at Jack. Look at Jack. Look at Jack.’ After the third time he gets it and shifts his gaze over to his boyfriend. Jack smiles when they meet eyes and blows him a kiss. 

‘I love you,’ he mouths. ‘You’re doing great’. Alex presses down harder on his lip, ripping into the skin. He brings a hand to his chest, across his heart, and mouths back, ‘I love you too.’

“Mr. Gaskarth?”

“Sorry, what?”

“How would you describe the relationship your brother had with your parents?” His parents’ lawyer prompts. Alex gulps. He’s memorized the cracks in the ceiling and counted the floorboards and traced the patterns on the wallpaper in earnest, trying everything to keep his gaze away from them.

“I, um.” When he speaks his voice breaks. “They wanted him to be perfect. What they thought perfect was, I guess. I don’t really know what they wanted. He just never lived up to it. He, um, when he killed himself.” He pauses. Inhales. Looks back over at Jack who’s almost falling out of his seat, mouthing ‘I love yous’ over and over. He smiles. “When he killed himself I found him. He was awake. He told me he was sorry he could never be enough and I said he was and he said no, he’d never be enough for them and he was done trying.”

He gasps for breath when it’s over, closing his eyes. He digs his nails into his palm, feels the skin break, _breathes_.

“So your parents wanted the best for him, is that right?”

“Y-Yeah…”

“Then, is it safe to say, that after his tragic death, they grieved for a long time?”

“I-I guess so…”

“Grief causes a multitude of reactions and manifests itself in many ways,” the man says. “Sometimes completely uncontrollable. Mr. Gaskarth, can you tell me when the abuse you’ve stated occurred, started?”

“They, um, they neglect-, um, it, um, right after Tom died,” he chokes out. His heart is racing. The tears are rolling down his cheeks. He blinks rapidly, presses his nails further into his palm, drops his head down and tries to keep his breathing steady. 

_You can’t have a panic attack._

_You cannot have a panic attack_.

“Mr. Gaskarth, one final question. Have you hurt yourself recently?”

He feels it. The cold, the ice, the tidal wave washing over him. He draws his arms in close to his body and looks down.

 _Shit_.

His cuts must’ve reopened or he didn’t wrap them as tightly as he should’ve because there are red blotches on his shirtsleeves he’s bleeding through they’re bleeding through his shirt is white everyone can see they know they know they know.

They’regonnasendhimbackthey’regonnasendhimbacktheyknow. 

“N-No.”

“Are you sure? What’s that on your sleeves?”

“N-nothing! It’s nothing!”

“Your honor, irrelevance and badgering the witness!”

Alex doesn’t hear the rest. He ducks his head down and sobs into his hands. His throat feels raw. His head is so heavy. 

“No further questions, your honor.”

“Defense, he’s all yours.”

Laura smiles at him. She tilts her head slightly in the direction of Jack and the rest of his family and he forces a shaky smile of his own. Jack is practically falling over himself. Ashton has an arm wrapped around his waist, keeping him from pulling a Geoff, most likely. Ashton is looking at him irritably, tightening his arm every time he leans further forward. Alex has to laugh. That can’t be easy. “Alex, your written statement says that your parents were abusive. Could you expand on that?”

 _Breathe. It’s okay. They can’t hurt you anymore. This is going to stop them from ever hurting you again_. 

“They, um…my dad hit me. A lot.” He’s talking so fast. He knows it. The words are there in a jumbled mess on the tip of his tongue and keep bleeding out before he has a chance to shape them into coherent sentences. “He hit me and broke my ribs and gave me concussions and my mom said she wished she aborted me when she had the chance and they burned me I, I just.” He gasps. He’s panting. There’s no breath left. His chest is tightening. He can’t look up he can’t see the looks on their faces _nonononono_.

“Your honor, I’d like to request a fifteen minute time out.”

“Very well. Court adjourned. We will return in exactly fifteen minutes.”

…

He doesn’t finish questioning. 

He has a panic attack as soon as Jack reaches him, a full on meltdown that takes an extra pill of Xanax and a long cry into Jack’s shirt to calm down from. Laura submits the pictures of his back and the x-rays from hospital visits and every picture of every non self-inflicted scar on his body.

And Alex presses into Jack. He hides his face and blows out a shaky breath. “It’s not working…”

“What?” Jack curls his fingers around his torso. They’re back in the courtroom. They just called Rian up to the stand. It’s not socially acceptable for Jack to pull him into his lap right. It’s not socially acceptable for Alex to bury his face in his shirt and stay there, breathe there, intoxicate himself with Jack’s scent and feel his heart start to slow down. It’s not socially acceptable but this isn’t enough he needs to be closer he needs to feel Jack’s skin against his he _needs_ this. 

“The Xanax,” Alex answers shakily. “It’s not working I can’t breathe I need you hold me please please please.”

“Fuck,” Jack mutters. “C’mere.” He pulls him onto his lap and Alex slumps against him in relief. He buries his face in Jack’s chest and he _breathes_. He starts to cry and grips Jack’s shirt in his hands and he _breathes_. Long enough for him to tune out the voice in his head and turn his attention to what his parents’ lawyer is asking Rian.

“Did you know about the abuse?”

“Know about it?” Rian sounds incredulous, like someone just asked him if music was important to him. “I _lived_ it. He always came ta me after, bruised and dripping blood. My mom and I patched him up and when we couldn’t we took him to the hospital.”

“What about the burn on his back?”

“I, um.” Rian’s voice falters a bit. “He called me. Right after. They left him on the ground while it was still blistering. I-I had ta figure out how ta get him across the street to my house without hurting him. When I did we took him to the hospital and they cleaned it and dressed it but he was in pain for _weeks_. He’d cry every night when I had to change the dressing, it was so bad…”

Jack’s arms tighten around him. Alex swallows. His head feels heavy. Achy. He can’t lift it. “You’re okay,” Jack whispers. “I’m right here. Just keep breathing. It’s almost over. You’re okay.”

“Did you or your parents feel the need to contact anyone about this abuse you were seeing?”

“He didn’t want us to,” Rian answers immediately. “We tried. He said no. And he was already going through enough. He was hurting enough. He didn’t have any control of anything…we wanted him to be able to say no and have people listen. Respect it. Show him his words meant something because his parents had taken that away from him.”

“Alright Mr. Dawson, one final question…” Alex forces his head off Jack’s chest to look up at Rian. They make eye contact and he mouths ‘thank you. I love you. Thank you.’ The only acknowledgement Rian gives that he’s heard it is a small smile. He turns almost immediately back to the lawyer. “Would you believe that the abuse Mr. Gaskarth has suffered is a direct reaction of unresolved grief?”

“ _Hell_ no.” Rian ends on a growl. “They neglected him his entire life. When they didn’t have Tom around to suffocate they started beating him and telling him he should’ve been aborted. I wrapped so many fuckin’ broken ribs and iced so many bruises and don’t even get me started on that fuckin’ _burn_ on his back. Anyone who thinks this is grief is fuckin’ delusional. They used an _iron_ to _burn_ the word _mistake_ into his skin. Letter by fucking letter. That’s not grief. That’s abuse. And if you fuckin’ dare let him go back to them they will kill him. Because they don’t care about him. They never wanted him. So why not let him stay somewhere where he _is_ wanted? Why do they want him back so bad now? It doesn’t make any fuckin’ sense. He’s happy. For the first time in his whole life. Let him be happy, jesus fuckin’ christ. I’ve seen what they can do and I promise, if you send him back to them, they _will_ kill him. And it’ll be your fault.”

…

“You were amazing up there.”

Rian closes his eyes and turns his head into Zack’s neck. He breathes out and presses his nose into the warmed patch of skin. Zack presses his lips to his hair and he tightens his arms around his torso. “Dunno how Lex lives like that. I was so scared. Couldn’t stop shaking.”

“It’s over,” Zack reminds him. “And you did so good. They’d be fuckin’ crazy ta send him back.”

“Thank you.” The voice comes from his other side. He opens his eyes and turns his head, keeping it pillowed against Zack’s neck, then reaches for Alex’s hand. 

“Don’t,” he mutters. “I did what I had ta do. You’re not gonna go back there, Al.”

“They made Awsten go back,” Alex says lowly. “Who knows what could happen.”

“Hey.” Jack shifts him on his lap and grabs both of his shoulders. “Don’t talk like that. You’re not going _anywhere_ , Lex. I promise. It’s gonna be okay.”

“Stop makin’ promises you can’t keep.”

“Lex-”

“I’m serious.”

Rian looks back at the front of the room, where Alex’s mom is on the stand. “…losing Tom was the worst possible thing that could’ve happened to our family. I’ll admit we didn’t react the best to it. Tom was our firstborn…the fact that he took his own life.” She pauses to blot at her eyes with a tissue. “It was simply devastating. My husband took up drinking because he didn’t know how to deal with his grief and I guess I…I don’t really know what happened with myself. I let myself go. I was a bad mother. I will definitely admit that. I just…didn’t know how to live with myself, knowing I’d lost one of my sons.”

He snorts. That’s such bullshit. They knew exactly what they were doing. Drunk or not, grieving or not, they took an iron and _branded_ Alex. That’s not something you do while you’re grieving. Abuse isn’t one of the stages of grief. 

“We’ve been going to therapy for the past few months, ever since Alex was taken from us,” she says. Her voice cracks. “We’ve been trying to get better, trying so hard to learn from our mistakes and become the parents he deserves. I know we don’t deserve it, but…it would mean the world if we were given a second chance to prove that.”

The lawyer starts to say something else, and then the door to the courtroom bangs open. He rests a hand on Zack’s shoulder and uses the leverage to see over his head.

Geoff runs through the door, phone tightly clutched in his hand. His eyes are red and wild. There are tears on his cheeks. “We havta go! Fuck we have to Awsten oh my god fuck fuck fuck…” He chokes out. He’s turning around in circles with his hands pressed to his temples and his eyes squeezed shut.

Jordan and Quinn slide out of their chairs and run to him. Rian watches as they lower him to his knees and try to coax him to take some deep breaths. He shakes his head wildly, pulling at his hair. Jack pushes Alex off his lap and they both join, and one by one, the rest of the kids follow, until they’re gathered in a large mass in the middle of the aisle, hands reaching for Geoff, frantically asking what’s wrong.

“I was talking to Awsten and his dad came in and I think he broke his phone but I heard him hit him we have to go something’s wrong he’s hurt please we havta go!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I have an affinity for cliffhangers. You know this. Next chapter explains everything. Aftermath. Outcome. The intense is only beginning. I don't think any of you are prepared. ;) The more comments I get, the quicker it's yours.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	63. Chapter 63

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings - anxiety, panic attacks, and mentions of abuse.
> 
> And there's a very important author's note at the end. Please read it.
> 
> Enjoy.

“We havta split up.”

“Are you _sure_?”

“We don’t have a choice.”

“Okay, who’s going with you?”

“Geoff. Kellin, Vic, Ash, Cal, maybe Mikey, and um-”

“Hey!”

“No, I wanna go too!”

“That’s not fair what the fuck?”

“Why can’t we all go?”

“I’m going,” Alex says firmly. “I needa see him.”

“Alex, hun, you’re the only person absolutely _can’t_ go,” Quinn replies. “The trial, love. You havta stay – and that means Jack has ta stay too.”

“Fuck the trial!” Alex shouts. He turns his head to the front of the room. The judge and the jury and his parents and their lawyer are all staring at them. Laura and Lucas have broken away from the front and joined their huddled mass, talking in urgent whispers with Jordan and Quinn. “Fuck it! We’re gonna lose anyway, why does it matter whether it’s today or tomorrow? It’s not important. I’m goin’ back and they haven’t changed and they’re probably gonna kill me, so at least I can see my fuckin’ brother and make sure he’s _alive_ before I die.”

“Your honor, would it be possible to adjourn for the day and return tomorrow?” Laura asks. “This is an emergent situation…” 

Jack’s hands tighten on his waist. He takes a small step back so his back is flush with Jack’s chest and tilts his head back to rest it in Jack’s shoulder. 

If he’s going to go back, if he’s going to _die_ , he needs to see Awsten first. He needs to know he’s okay. His heart is pounding thudthudthud in his chest and his hands are shaking. He knows abuse he’s lived abuse Awsten’s dad was so angry everyone was so angry what if they killed him what if he’s dead what if his dad went too far whatifhe’sdeadwhatifhekilledhimwhatifhe’sfuckingdead.

“No,” the judge says. 

Alex feels his heart stop.

“Your honor, I-”

“Returning tomorrow won’t be necessary,” the judge continues. “I’ve made my decision.”

“You don’t get to-”

“The jury has to-”

“I don’t care what the jury has to say about it,” he continues. “I’m exercising my executive power for this case. This boy is terrified. He had a panic attack up on the stand. He’s clearly convinced that his parents have not changed, and there is insufficient evidence to prove to me that they have. For god’s sakes, the kid’s happy where he is. He has a family. I don’t understand why you’re trying to drag him back into his old one, and I definitely don’t understand how you thought you’d pass off _branding him_ as a sign of grief. All you’ve done is give me more reasons he should _never_ be allowed back to his birth parents. The kid’s fine, the group home’s fine, those moms love and care about him so much more than his biological parents do, so really, I see no reason for the trial to continue.” He turns to Alex with a smile. “I’m so sorry for everything this trial has put you through. I hope this provides you with a little bit of solace. And I don’t know your friend or the situation, but…I really hope he’s okay.”

…

“Oh my god…”

“Hey.” Jordan grips his wrist. “Look at me, Geoff. He’s alive. He’s going to be okay. They repaired his spleen. The surgery went perfectly and they did it laproscopically. He can go home tomorrow. Now, they said he can have visitors, but I’m not gonna let you back there if you’re gonna have a panic attack. So I need you to take some deep breaths with me, calm down a bit, and _then_ you can see him.”

“He- he shouldn’t be alone,” Geoff chokes out. He blinks rapidly against the tears burning at the corners of his eyes. His hands are shaking. He feels fuzzy, unsteady on his feet. He keeps swaying back and forth. “Mom…”

Hands tighten around his shoulders. He closes his eyes. The wooziness is overwhelming. He feels like he just stepped off a rollercoaster, dizzy and faint and about to fall flat on his face. His stomach is threatening to come up his esophagus and everything is spinning.

“Just take some deep breaths babe. Try to match me. You’re okay.” He keeps his eyes closed as he tries to breathe with Jordan. Her breaths are exaggerated and loud. He recognizes the technique. It’s how he calms down after every nightmare. It’s how he tethers himself back to reality, resting his head on the warm chest and listening to the steady heartbeat and feeling the chest move up and down. 

The only other person who’s been able to calm him down like this is Awsten.

When he finally blinks, when he opens his eyes and sees Jordan rather than Awsten standing in front of him, he bites his lip and turns his face away. “I want Aws. Where’s Aws? Who’s with him? I have to see him where is he?”

“Breathe,” Jordan reminds. “Mama’s with him right now. They only want two at a time so we don’t overwhelm him. He hasn’t woken up yet but they think he will in the next couple hours. His room is on the fourth floor, second door from the righ-”

He cuts her off and turns around, taking a step toward the elevator. “Geoff!” Jordan calls. “I know you wanna see him, just lemme finish okay?”

“What?”

“His dad did a real number on him, love,” Jordan tells him. “He lost a lot of blood. His face is bruised. He’s stitched up and bandaged up and it’s all gonna be okay but it looks really bad. A lot of his ribs are broken. I know you’re gonna get into bed with him so please, remember that. He’s in pain. He won’t tell you because he wants to be close to you, but you can ask Kellin – broken ribs are absolutely excruciating. Don’t hug him too hard. Try to lie with him in a way that doesn’t put pressure on his ribcage. And remember…he’s been through something really traumatic. He hasn’t woken up yet. We don’t know what’s going on in his head. We’re gonna get Lucas in as soon as he’s stable enough, and if he lets you stay in the room you cannot react. Your feelings havta happen outside, okay? Leave them outside. Awsten won’t talk if he knows what he says is hurting you. Just…be careful, okay? He’s fragile.”

He tastes copper. He gives the tiniest nod of his head and continues to the elevator. Jordan gets in behind him and reaches over to press the button. 

When he finally finds himself in front of the door to Awsten’s room, he stops. He can’t look up. He can’t open the door. He’s not ready he can’t hecan’thecan’thecan’t.

Jordan reaches around him and twists the door open. He lifts his head. 

He wants to look away. Take his eyes away. Remember Awsten as he used to be with rosy cheeks and bright eyes and flower crowns nestled in his light blue strands of hair, curling into his chest and hiding away like he was his own secret.

The image is engraining itself in his brain, brain working to form pathways that’ll direct to it every time he thinks about Awsten from this point onward. It brings the tears in his eyes down his cheeks, soaks them into his skin, leeches the breath from his body, wrenches the ground out from under him. 

Both his eyes are blackened and his cheekbones are bruised. His lip is swollen. There are stitches in his forehead. He’s wearing a hospital gown that seems to sink into him, clinging to the junctures of his body where bones jut out. One of his wrists is casted and the other is wrapped in bandages. He looks so small, so delicate, so _broken_...

He’s only been gone for two weeks. 

He looks exactly like the skeleton Geoff told him not to turn into.

“Come here sweetheart,” Quinn beckons. He looks over at her. She has Awsten’s bandaged hand in both of hers. She brings it to her lips and then waves him over again. “He’s starting to wake up.”

He crosses the room in two strides, stepping around the IV pole to take Awsten’s other hand. His fingers poke out of his cast just enough for Geoff to lace them with his. He kisses Awsten’s knuckles and then leans down to kiss his lips. 

He doesn’t know when Quinn leaves.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed.

All he knows is that he has never felt his heart break into pieces while growing to a size he never thought it could. 

…

“So he’s gonna be okay?”

“Eventually.” Jordan kneels down behind the chair Quinn’s sitting in and wraps her arms around her, pressing her lips to the side of her head. “He’s on bed rest for a bit. He needs time to recover from the surgery.”

“I still just…”

“I can’t believe his dad ruptured his fuckin’ spleen.”

“Thank fuck they could repair it.”

“Can you live without a spleen?”

“I think so.”

“I mean, you can live with one kidney, can’t you?”

“You can,” Quinn says. “My dad doesn’t have his. It’s not like an appendix, which you just don’t need, but not like your liver, which you can’t survive without. But they didn’t have to take Awsten’s out. The laceration wasn’t that bad.”

Alex swallows and buries his nose in Jack’s hair. “But he’s like…gonna be okay, right?”

“Yeah.” Jordan smiles. “He’s gonna make a full recovery, guys. It’s gonna be fine.”

The lump of emotion in his throat throbs. Tears are burning in the corners of his eyes. He swallows painfully, and, like a switch being flipped, the tears begin to pour down his cheeks. He hiccups and chokes out a sob and moves his head down to Jack’s shoulder, soaking the fabric of his shirt.

A hand begins to rub his back and he sobs again. 

“Aw, Lex.”

“You guys haven’t even heard the best part.”

“What?”

“There’s more?”

“Should we tell them, Jor?”

“What the fuck?” Kellin exclaims. Alex lifts his head and wipes at his teary eyes. “Tell us!”

Jordan and Quinn exchange smiles. “The police showed up at Awsten’s house and arrested his parents. I just talked to his social worker, and…” 

“They’re sending him back here!” Quinn finishes. “He’s home. For good. We’re gonna get the paperwork started to adopt him as soon as we can, so we never have to worry about any of this ever again.”

“What?”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” Quinn’s voice breaks. “He’s ours, guys. Forever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? I don't know whether this is what you guys were expecting (judging by all the theories, no), but I hope you liked it anyway. Things brings me to the news: this story is ending at chapter 65.
> 
> Before you all come at me with pitchforks, listen. There _is_ going to be a sequel. I've already started writing it. It's going to pick up exactly where chapter 65 leaves off and chronicle the recovery from all these trials. There are so many loose ends that need to be tied, including Frank, Calum, and Kellin's feelings about everything, Luke, the Peterick storyline I just introduced, and Alex and Awsten trying to recover from all of this. I did that on purpose. The sequel will answer all those questions and take you on (just as) a wild ride as this one. 
> 
> I have so much anxiety about ending this story (you'll find out why in the last author's note), because of how important it is, how important this universe is to me, so I can promise you nothing is changing. It'll be like the story is continuing, only in a brand new book, if that makes any sense.
> 
> But we've still got two more chapters, so next time: Awsten wakes up, everyone else goes home, and Alex finally has the chance to feel everything he's been repressing with adrenaline...it's not pretty. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	64. Chapter 64

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings - anxiety, panic attacks, and mentions of eating disorders.

“Mm…”

He blinks, catches the smallest bit of light, and immediately squeezes his eyes shut. 

Where is he what’s going on is he dead why isn’t he dead he should be dead he needs to be dead what’s going on he doesn’t know hedoesn’tknowhedoesn’tknow.

Something’s digging into his back it hurts everything hurts where is he what’s going on why can’t he move he can’t breathe he’s gonna die why isn’t he dead yet he can’t move he can’t breathe hecan’thecan’thecan’t.

“Aws? Hey! Awsie, baby, it’s okay.”

He stops.

He knows that voice.

He’d recognize it anywhere.

He opens his eyes. The bright white light stings. He inhales. 

Vanilla. Coffee. That stupid sweet smelling cologne that he wears too much.

“Geoff,” he whispers. The words tear up his throat. He tries to swallow but that hurts just as bad. “What…where am I…”

“Awsten, oh thank god.” He feels Geoff shift next to him. “You’re in the hospital, love. You had surgery.”

“I, I… _what_?” Surgery they cut him open he was on an operating table they put him under anesthesia theycuthimopentheycuthimopentheycuthimopen.

“C’mon angel, breathe with me,” Geoff murmurs. “You’re okay. Everything’s okay. You’re coming out of anesthesia so you’re a little fuzzy. It’s okay. Breathe, precious. Just breathe.”

“Geoff…” He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to turn onto his side but freezes when he moves the slightest bit. The pain is white-hot, a mind-blowing kind of agony. It feels like every pain receptor in his body is going haywire. He feels dizzy. He doesn’t remember when he last ate but whatever’s in his stomach is threatening to come up. “Oh god…”

“I know it hurts beautiful.” Geoff’s heat leaves his body for a second and then returns. “I just pressed a button so the IV will pump more morphine into you, okay? You gotta relax though. Breathe, my angel. I’m right here. You’re safe. You’re home, remember? You’re in my arms, you’re home. Nothing bad can happen to you ever again.”

“Home…” He repeats. His eyes are starting to feel heavy. Everything is starting to feel weighted. “Gee…”

“It’s okay,” Geoff murmurs. “Go back to sleep, my love. You need the rest. And I’ll be right here when you wake up, I promise.”

He feels Geoff’s lips on his forehead and arm around his waist and he squirms blindly, until he finds Geoff’s chest and rests his head there and breathes in and _knows_ , this is the safest he’s felt in weeks.

…

“Geoff is staying at the hospital tonight. Awsten’s gonna be released tomorrow – on strict bed rest – and we convinced them to let Geoff stay with him instead of one of us. Vic, Kellin, since you already sleep together every night, pick a room,” Jordan says. “Preferably Kellin’s. Awsten’s room is still stripped and I think he’d be more comfortable in Geoff’s. So he and Geoff will stay there and you two can stay in his and Kellin’s room, alright?”

“Can we make that permanent?”

“You guys know the rule.”

“But-”

“Did he wake up yet?” Alex asks. His voice catches in his throat and he coughs, bringing a hand to his chest. He looks down at Jack’s arm around his waist and squeezes his fingers. “Do you…is there any news?”

“Yeah babe, he did,” Quinn says. She smiles. “Only for a little bit, though. He’s in a lot of pain. It’s better if he’s sleeping. And he’ll be home tomorrow, you’ll see him really soon.”

“We wanted ta let you guys visit him, it’s just…he’s in a really fragile place,” Jordan adds. “Mentally, emotionally, everything. So even tomorrow, I don’t want you all crowding him. One or two at a time. What he went through was really traumatic and we don’t know what he’s thinking.”

Alex swallows hard and nods. He turns his face into Jack’s shoulder and releases a heavy breath, closing his eyes.

The last few hours have been so much. They didn’t have time to be happy about the decision from the judge because they were rushing to the hospital and then they found out Awsten was in surgery and every trickle of warmth hardened and the wait was so long and then he was okay and Quinn went to see him and then Geoff and then visiting hours ended and then they got home and it’s all so much everything is so much he’s shaky and his stomach isn’t happy it’s so much too much everything is too much.

“Today was a lot.”

“That’s for sure.”

“The best kinda a lot.”

“Lex and Aws are here ta stay, we just gotta get Luke back now.”

“I don’t…that judge was fuckin’ amazing.”

“I know!”

The nausea swells further. He feels it, forming a thick stream and launching itself up his esophagus. He rips himself away from Jack, almost falling when his feet hit the floor. He feels the pins and needles in his feet as he sprints to the bathroom and the dull ache in his knees when he hits the floor.

There’s a vile taste in his mouth and hot tears running down his cheeks when he sits back on his heels. He stares into the water with a quivering lip. He’s so dizzy. Everything is spinning. 

“Shit Lex, what happened?”

Jack wraps an arm around his waist and he leans into it, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. “I…I don’t feel good. Too much…”

“Sensory overload,” Jordan says from behind. Alex moans and lets his body go limp against Jack. His head is pounding. The room is still spinning. “Today was a lot for him. He needs to decompress.” 

Alex opens his eyes when he feels another person’s presence. Jordan hands him a couple pills and a bottle of water with a gentle smile. “Here you go, love. Advil and something to help you sleep. I know today was so much for you, but you’re ours, sweetheart. Forever. Just remember that, okay?”

Alex swallows the pills and slumps back into Jack with a sigh. “Love you, mom…”

…

Jack smiles, running his fingers through Alex’s fringe and tracing his hand down his face. He leans down and kisses his forehead. 

He fell asleep as soon as they got into bed. His head is turned to the side, lips slightly parted as he draws in steady breaths. The dark purple bruises under his eyes are so much prominent, offset by his pale skin. 

Today was a victory but you’d never know it.

Jack sometimes underestimates how bad Alex’s anxiety truly is. He’s not constantly shaking, like Awsten, or on-edge during every social situation, like Luke. He gets his comfort through soft touches, subtle hand gestures that remind him he’s safe. They’re always touching; he always has Alex in his lap or pressed to his side, so it hasn’t really occurred to him until now that it was more of an anxiety thing than a ‘I love you so much and I just want to be close to you’ thing. 

“I’m so sorry,” Jack whispers, bringing his lips close to Alex’s ear. “I’m so sorry for not realizing. I’ll be better, I promise. You make me want to be better. I love you so much, Alex. And it scares me. Because I’ve never loved anyone like this and I don’t know what’s going to happen.” It’s like he’s throwing himself off a cliff into a pit of darkness, no idea what’s at the bottom. Alex makes him want to take the risk.

The guys he’s dated in the past have never loved him the way Alex does. Alex’s love feels different. It’s not desperate. It’s not a distraction or a deflection from what’s obviously fucked up. Loving Alex feels healing, like he can work on himself and his issues and love him at the same.

He didn’t think it was possible. 

Alex doesn’t expect anything from him, doesn’t want him to be someone he’s not, doesn’t ever get irritated with his anxious habits and inability to eat properly and repeated dialogue about how much he hates himself. Alex isn’t waiting for him to do something, _become_ something. Alex loves him just the way he is and that is the most healing kind of love Jack’s ever felt.

He can get better without a stopwatch, without someone looking over his shoulder and policing his weight gain and clucking their tongue in disappointment when he isn’t up to par. 

And for the first time in his life, he’s trying. He’s trying because he _wants_ to, because recovery is worth it and Alex makes him feel worth it and the world is so much bigger than counting calories and pinching skin and seeing bone. 

Because this kind of love is so scary but so exciting. It’s the kind of love you throw yourself into the deep end for even though it’s terrifying because what comes out on the other end is so much better.

He wants to do the marriage thing. The kids thing. He wants what Jordan and Quinn have and he never thought he’d ever get to this point but Alex makes it feel possible.

Alex makes everything feel possible. 

“Hey, is he asleep?”

Jack snaps his head up. His heart starts to speed up. He didn’t think anyone was watching him. “Y-Yeah…”

“We’re gonna head out,” Rian says, walking up to the side of the bed. Zack follows, perching on the side of the bed, and locks eyes with him. Jack forces a smile. Zack grabs his hand and squeezes.

Rian leans down and kisses Alex’s forehead. Jack leans away, tries not to intrude, but is still close enough to hear what he says: “well bro…it worked out. You’re finally safe. And god.” He stops, voice breaking. Zack reaches up to rub Rian’s back with his other hand. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waitin’… I-I guess I won’t have ta look out for ya anymore, huh? You got Jack and your moms and everyone here.” Tears are rolling down his cheeks. “I just…you’ve saved me just as much as I saved you, Lex. I don’t know what I woulda done without you. You’re always gonna be my best friend. I love you.” 

He chokes out another sob and straightens. Zack hops off the bed and wraps an arm around his waist.

“Hey,” Jack whispers. “He’s always gonna need you, yknow? No matter what. You’re always gonna be important to him.”

Rian gives him a watery smile. “I know. But he has you now.”

“I’m not you,” Jack points out. “You guys got something he and I will never have. It’s special.”

“I’m glad he has you,” Rian says. “But if you do something, _anything_ , that hurts him, you know I’m gonna fuckin’ destroy you, right?”

Jack swallows. “If I ever do anything that hurts him, whether I mean to or not, you have my full permission.”

“You really love him, don’t you?”

Jack looks down at Alex. “Yeah. More than anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...next chapter is the last one. But _please_ guys, remember, nothing is changing. Honestly, the main reason I'm doing it right now is because this is the natural divide, the best place to end it. Besides, this story's getting kinda long, lol. We're picking up exactly where we leave off with the next chapter. 
> 
> Awsten comes home, and it sets up a few things for the sequel, like giving more depth to the Peterick storyline and what's going on with Luke. The major plot ended last chapter, this one and the next are just the wrap up. The action doesn't start up again until the sequel (there is no title yet, otherwise I'd give you one). The more comments I get, the quicker you get the last chapter.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


	65. Chapter 65

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...this is it, guys.
> 
> Really important author's note at the bottom. Read it.
> 
> Trigger warnings - anxiety, panic attacks, purging, and abuse.

“He, um, he heard me talking ta Geoff, I-I think. He broke my phone – that’s what the crunch was, that’s why the call cut – and I…it hurt so bad I couldn’t do it everything hurt I couldn’t breathe I couldn’t do it again I had to I fuckin’ _had_ to please don’t send me back there please please please.”

“Hey.” Geoff rubs his back firmly. He turns his face to bury it in Geoff’s shirt and lets out a shaky breath. “It’s okay love. You’re okay. You gotta breathe though. You still have stitches in, remember?”

“I can’t do this,” Awsten chokes out. He lifts his head briefly to look at the officer and bites his lip. “Please I can’t he hurt me so bad I can’t remember it I can’t think about it it hurts so much…”

“Yeah, that’s enough,” Lucas says tightly. He takes a step over to where the officer is standing. “The kid’s about to have a panic attack for christ’s sake. It’s not like he was witness to a fuckin’ robbery, this is life and death and the worst abuse I’ve ever seen so if you could stop treating him like a robot designed to answer your questions and open your fuckin’ eyes, that’d be awesome.”

“Mr. Jensen, I’m only trying to do my job here,” the officer replies. “We need his statement. We have his father in custody but we can’t do anything without a victim statement.”

“His father. Ruptured. His. Spleen,” Lucas grounds out. “What more fuckin’ evidence do you _need_?”

“Oh my god, are you _still_ here?” The door bangs open and Jordan steps in with a tray of coffee cups. “I thought I told you to go. He’s in no state to answer your questions right now.”

“It’s been almost two days. The department needs his statement, otherwise we can’t _do_ anything. He needs to cooperate for just a little bit if he wants his father locked up.”

Awsten lets out a whimper and closes his eyes. He presses his face further into Geoff, tightening his arms around his waist. “Gee, please…not now I can’t.”

“Mom,” Geoff says. “He’s gonna panic, please, can you do something?”

“I sure as hell can babe,” Jordan replies. “Aws, sweetheart, just stay calm alright? I’m so sorry. And as for you.” She turns to the officer. “I suggest you get the hell out of my son’s room before I call security on your ass. This isn’t doing your job; this is being a complete asshole and overstepping beyond belief and torturing a _child_ that’s already been put through _enough_ in the past few weeks. _Go_. And don’t come back. Send in another officer to get his statement, someone with a heart, thanks.”

The man leaves in a huff. He slams the door behind him.

Awsten stops. He lifts a hand to his temple and squeezes his eyes shut tighter. 

The pain is exploding, like one thousand white-hot daggers have landed on the base of his skull and pierced his brain. He bites down on his lip and punctures the skin and tastes the copper and feels the tears and tries to keep his focus on Geoff’s scent and feeling his body against his but it’s not a good enough distraction his head hurts it hurts it hurts it fucking _hurts_.

“Aws, love, you alright?”

“Head,” he gasps. “Hurts…”

“Inconsiderate asshole,” Jordan mutters. “Slammed the door. Awsten, honey, I’m gonna ask if they can give you ibuprofen or something for the pain, okay? You’re gonna be okay.”

“In the meantime, here.” He hears running water. Everything sounds louder, amplified by so much. Is this how blind people feel all the time? He doesn’t know it hurts he can’t think it hurts everything hurts. 

“Awsie,” Geoff whispers. “Lift your head baby, c’mon, Lucas has a cold compress to put on your forehead. Just for a second lovely, okay?”

So he does, keeps his eyes closed and picks his head up the slight few inches. Even with his eyes shut he can tell when the lighting shifts. He feels the cloth. It’s cool against his skin. Refreshing. 

“Here baby.” Geoff helps him maneuver so he can press his face back into his chest with the cloth still on his forehead. He feels Geoff’s lips against the top of his head. “I love you so much.”

“Love you,” Awsten murmurs.

…

He pushes open the door to his bedroom and shuts it behind him, leaning against the wood and closing his eyes. He presses his head into the surface. It stings the back of his head and the sting eventually blossoms into a dull ache when he moves off the door. He swallows. His throat feels thick. Saliva hangs from his jaw when he opens his mouth. 

Tears are collecting in his eyes to form a watery shield. He blinks. They settle on his eyelashes and fan onto his cheeks. He bites down on his lip. More tears come. He squeezes his eyes shut and inhales. The breath is long and he’s empty by the end. He presses a hand into his chest and lets out a hacking cough.

His chest is getting tighter. It’s become a familiar feeling, the tight chest and closed throat and shaking hands and racing heart. He feels it and knows exactly what’s going to happen next and he’s powerless to stop it, like he’s a puppet and the master is playing another sick joke on him. His body isn’t his own. He lost his mind a long time ago. 

The room is spinning everything feels so far away he’s watching his life through foggy glass, impermeable. It’s all happening so fast he doesn’t know what to do he doesn’t know how to stop it it won’t stop he can’t breathe hecan’tbreathehecan’tfuckingbreathe.

He drops to his knees and brings his hands to his throat and chokes out a painful sob. 

_Breathe Lukey. It’s gonna be okay baby, I love you. I’m right here. Just take some deep breaths for me, that’s it, oh no, try again, you’re okay my love, I promise. I’m right here. You are so safe and so loved and it’s all gonna be okay. Can you try again? I’ll do it with you. Try to match me. Feel my heart? It beats for you, my love. It’s not gonna stop. But the panic is. The panic is going to stop and you’re going to start breathing normally again and it’s all going to be okay. I love you. I’m here. I love you_.

Michael’s voice is in his head and it’s all he can hear, squeezing his eyes shut tighter and trying to focus on it. Michael’s here. Holding him. Stroking his hair kissing his head rubbing his back Michael’s here he’s in Michael’s arms everything’s okay he has his Mikey he’s okay it’s all okay he can breathe. He can breathe. He can breathe.

Inhale.

Exhale.

He opens his eyes.

Michael’s not here.

He’s alone.

He’s all alone.

…

_“Ungrateful bitch.”_

_“Insensitive asshole.”_

_“You sit around here on your ass all day while I slave away at work and_ I’m _the asshole? All I want is dinner on the table when I get home and you can’t even do that?”_

_“I’m your wife, not your cook. If you wanted a cook you should’ve hired one.”_

_“What the hell else do you do around here all day? I give you everything, and you can’t just do this one thing?”_

_“You give me everything? Seriously? You give me headaches. You make me want to_ rip my hair out _! You make me feel like a crazy person! I don’t even know why I married you!”_

_“Like you’re some kinda picnic? You’re a crazy, bipolar bitch. I never know who I’m comin’ home to. My sweet loving wife or the gorgon from the pits of hell!”_

_“Are you talking about me or the new secretary you’re fucking behind my back?”_

_“Don’t you fucking_ dare- _”_

 _“Don’t_ I _dare? Don’t you dare come in here and act like you’re some saint when you’re nothing more than a dirty fucking_ manwhore _!”_

He shoots up in bed, panting heavily. He brings a hand to his chest and tries to force air out of his lungs. The cough is painful. It tears up his esophagus and sends knives into the back of his throat. Liquid is pouring from his eyes and running down his cheeks, dripping down and clinging onto his neck. 

He tries to swallow. It hurts. There are hot coals lodged in his throat. Water won’t stop pouring from his eyes. He brings his knees to his chest and turns his head slightly. 

Pete is sleeping soundly, chest rising and falling steadily. One of his arms is draped over his eyes and the other is shoved under a pillow. He bites down on his lip. His head is pounding. He feels that heavy, groggy feeling. Tired but can’t sleep.

He slides off the bed and pads out of the room. 

There are no lights on in the hallway. 

He ducks into the bathroom and closes the door before turning on the light.

The person staring back at him in the mirror is messy hair and dark violet bruises under his eyes and rumpled clothes and quivering lips and teary eyes. He’s fear and pain and panic, all wrapped up into a nice little package and tied with a ribbon made of venom.

He drops down to his knees. It stings when he hits the floor. He kneewalks over to the toilet and lifts the lid so he can stare down into the clear water. His heart is racing. His head is spinning. Everything feels too big, too fast, too heavy. 

It’s too much.

It’s all too much.

He swallows again.

And then shoves two fingers down his throat.

…

“Careful, take your time, go slow, it’s okay…”

Alex bites his lip, and watches, as Geoff helps Awsten across the threshold and into the house. He has an arm around his waist and Awsten has one around his shoulders. He’s bent over slightly, other arm resting on his abdomen, slightly above Geoff’s. They’re walking slowly. He’s only able to take half of what everyone else can take in a normal step. He’s looking at all of them with wide eyes, head slightly tilted downward.

“Guys,” Jordan hisses from behind. “Move back. Let him come into the house.”

“Lex,” Jack whispers in his ear. “You’re cuttin’ off my circulation babe. Relax. Everything’s okay.” 

Alex looks over at their joined hands and winces, loosening his grip slightly. “He looks so…”

“I know,” Jack replies. “We’ll talk tonight, okay? Just hang on until then. It’s gonna be okay, I promise.”

“Alex?” 

He whips his head around. Awsten is looking at him with big, shiny eyes and a quivering lip. “H-Hi…”

He’s holding open his arms slightly. Geoff has both arms around his waist and a smile on his face. Alex meets his eyes and he mouths, ‘it’s okay. Hug him. You need it’.

“You can hug him love,” Quinn adds from behind. “It’s okay.”

Alex presses harder into his lip. His heart is racing. His hands are starting to shake. He lets go of Jack’s hand and takes a step forward, and then another, and another, until he’s standing right in front of Awsten.

He looks him up and down. Both his eyes are blackened. There’s a bruise on his cheek and stitches in his forehead. He has a blue cast on his left wrist and bandages on his right. He’s wearing a really baggy Zelda t-shirt – one Alex’s seen Geoff wear all the time – it’s hiding the surgery scars and broken ribs. He’s pale and shaky and weak looking and Alex is so scared to break him.

He takes another step forward.

And then he wraps his arms around Awsten, just under his armpits, taking his weight. Geoff steps back so he’s fully supporting Awsten. Awsten’s arms come up and around his neck and he buries his head in his shoulder. He feels the tears on his shirt and then his cheeks, closing his eyes and pressing his nose against Awsten’s collarbone.

“You’re okay,” he breathes. 

Awsten lifts his head and they lock eyes. 

“So are you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we go.
> 
> The end.
> 
> This is gonna be a _long_ author’s note, I’m sorry in advance.
> 
> I guess the first thing to say would be thank you, but honestly, that doesn’t even begin to encompass how grateful I am. Never, in the six years I’ve been posting fanfiction, have I written so fast and updated so quick and gotten the response I did on this story. Nothing I’ve ever written has impacted people in the way that this story has. To say that I am grateful…that is the understatement of the century. The response to this…the amount of people who’ve told me it’s helped them, it’s gotten them into new music, it’s gotten them back into writing, it’s helped them recognize they have a problem and pushed them to seek help…the amount my words have done for you all is the most humbling, indescribable feeling. Thank you. For letting me, for letting my words penetrate and infiltrate and help you.
> 
> Now, as I’ve been brutally honest in the story, I feel like I should be brutally honest about something else. This story is my pride and joy and my baby, but this story has also been my coping mechanism in the past few months. I started college in September, and let’s just say…my mental health has taken a turn for the worst. The reason this story was so raw and honest and emotional, is because it was real. So much of it was me projecting my thoughts onto these characters. I’ve been clean from self-harm for a little over three years. When things got hard, I wasn’t going to throw that away. This story became my coping mechanism, and let me tell you, it was so much more fulfilling and productive to write my feelings instead of taking them out on my body. This story is a masterpiece. It’s art. I have never been more proud of anything I’ve created in my entire life.
> 
> I mentioned being anxious about ending this, and here’s why. I have never received support on a story the way I did this one. The 20+ comments and so many kudos and overall investment in this story is so special to me. I don’t want to lose it. It might sound selfish, but let me explain:
> 
> Fanfiction authors do this for free. We create these worlds, create these characters, create these storylines, and we don’t get paid for it. And that’s fine, because we’re not doing it for the money; we’re doing it because we are so inspired and driven by these worlds that we want to create our own alternate universes. All we ask for in return is a few nice words, maybe even some criticism, even a keyboard smash. Just something to show us that you're reading and enjoying because that makes us _want_ to keep writing. For me, until this story, I’ve never received support like this. And I don’t…want it to stop, in a way? If that makes sense. Like I said, I’ve never updated a story as often as I have this one, and that’s _only_ because you guys comment and get attached and invest yourselves almost as much as I have. I don’t want to lose it. I have never felt this creative and this inspired to make art, and it’s all because of your support. So…I really hope you’ll continue to do that with the sequel. It would mean the world and more to me. 
> 
> And also. Special thank you to KendallsCGU. Guys, she's part of the reason this story is what it is. She's dealt with my rambling about it, given me ideas, and also she came up with the title and the title to the sequel she's honestly so amazing for putting up with me not replying to her some nights and reading all my scenes beforehand and giving me feedback I couldn't have asked for a better friend go read her stuff it's amazing.
> 
> So, I guess that’s it. Thank you, from the absolute bottom of my heart. Your support has meant more than the world. 
> 
> Thank you for making this story into so much more than a story for me.
> 
> I love you all.
> 
> (the sequel is going up right now. It’s called ‘When It All Comes Crashing Down’. Comment on it. The more comments I get, the quicker you get the chapter)
> 
> ((and I posted today for a reason. Waterparks’ new album, Entertainment, is out and it is single-handedly the best album I’ve ever heard in my entire life so go listen to it please go right now I promise you won’t regret it))
> 
> (((go read the sequel it's gonna be up by the time you get here go read it)))


End file.
